


Match

by nyoengland



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: + a lot of extras but this is a pottertalia fic, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mention of past relationships, Pottertalia, Puppy Love, Quidditch, background dennor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27408178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyoengland/pseuds/nyoengland
Summary: After Arthur Kirkland's Potions partner Monika Beilschmidt asks for romantic assistance regarding Alfred Jones in exchange for Quidditch lessons, old feelings are revisited.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hetalia's back. so i wrote this fic. sorry
> 
> transferred from mikakutensei (my new account) to nyoengland (my old account)
> 
> updates every thursday :)

Monika Beilschmidt kept on shooting him looks during Charms.

Usually, Arthur had an easy time in Charms, but something about the sixth year’s piercing gaze made him slightly unhinged. The renowned beater’s ferocity - amongst a number of traits - on and off the pitch had been commented on by more than one student every so often in a single Slytherin match. Even after they’d become regular partners in Potions class and had become friendly, it still sent chills up his spine.

He barely managed to scribble down the homework for the week: one page thankfully. The professor had mercifully remembered they had just come back from the summer holidays, and therefore assigned a lenient reading to ‘ease’ them back into the process of school and forget about the cold weather. Not a moment after he had stuffed the parchment into his bag and turned his feet towards the Slytherin dorm had Monika Beilschmidt asked to speak to him outside the classroom.

Her head dithered, her blond hair falling in front of her face as she let go of his robes. “Kirkland? Can I have a word with you?” she muttered, holding her arms to her chest.

 _Oh no_. “Well, yes,” Arthur replied quietly, bracing himself for the worst – he was either going to receive a confession, or a beating.

“I need your help,” Monika continued as soon as they had found a quiet place in the middle of the staircase. “Um. You’re a smart student, aren’t you?”

“So are you.” Arthur replied, nonplussed. With that, he was convinced that he’d be receiving a beating.

Monika paused, shook her head, and then furrowed her brows together. “Well, yes, you could...oh, this is not coming out well at all. You’ve read Muggle novels, yes?”

“Correct,” Arthur said, unsure of how to react to his housemate’s odd questions. Another awkward pause, and then she spoke again.

“So...this might seem strange, but I need your help. With a Muggle – well, he’s not really a Muggle, but...” Monika attempted to formulate a sentence, but she tripped over her own words in a very uncharacteristic fashion.

Arthur was still unsure of what to say, so he blurted what little he could think of. “Er, Beil...Monika,” he started, gently touching her shoulder, “It’s okay, I’m your housemate. Whatever you tell me won’t leave me.”

“Okay,” Monika said, and took a deep breath, letting her lips relax from their tightly pressed line. “Okay. Kirkland – I mean, Arthur, there’s been someone in our year that I’ve been interested in. For a while.”

Arthur nodded once, internally relaxing – there was no way she’d reveal her nonexistent affections for him like _that_. There was one question, though... “What can I do to help you though – like, do I know this person?"

She nodded twice, burying her chin deeper into her green scarf, voice quieting that even Arthur could barely hear. “It’s Alfred Jones.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, and suddenly wished he could bury his reddening face in his own scarf. Alfred _Fucking_ Jones. Of course. A Quidditch star in sixth year, rumoured to be hot on the list for scouts come seventh year, top of the class if not the _year_ in Defense Against the Dark Arts...and an incredibly attractive _Gryffindor_.

“I know, I know, he’s a Gryffindor,” Monika stammered, echoing Arthur’s thoughts and probably taking the shift in his expression for anger.

“But...over the summer, we spent six weeks together in the same Quidditch camp in Switzerland, and then we went from just acquaintances to friends. Since he’s a Chaser, it was interesting to see his point of view in game-” (Arthur had seen, he’d been fixated on Alfred for almost every match if it wasn’t a Slytherin match) “-And then something happened in those six weeks. It might be more important than the house rivalry.”

“Well, the house rivalry is dull as it is,” Arthur said quickly, seeing her shoulders slump in relief. It was all right, really. He’d never work up the courage to confess, ever. Good for Monika, though, no one really considered inter-house dating taboo anyway. “But Alfred, of course. Of course. So, um, what can I do? I’m not terribly good in the art of wooing.”

“You’ve gone out with people before, right?” Monika continued, after taking a moment to compose herself. “I think you’ve gone out with a Hufflepuff before.”

Arthur grimaced; she must have been talking about Francis. “The frog, yes. We’re just friends now, though.”

“Still!” Monika exclaimed, gaze full of resolve. “You know how to woo someone – you know how to woo men! I don’t know anyone else to ask! Even if the letter is anonymous!”

“Francis and Alfred are very different people,” Arthur said feebly, but Monika soldiered on. “But Arthur, I’ve seen how you and Alfred bicker all the time in the hallways and in the dining hall. Surely you know a lot about him? We can combine our knowledge together. And I know he used to go to a Muggle school when he didn’t know that he and his brother were half bloods, they must have taught that sort of stuff! Right?

 _Bloody hell, I didn’t know **that**_ , Arthur thought as the two of them proceeded down the corridor; it wouldn’t do well for them to be late to the Great Hall for lunch. He and Monika must have grown quite close together during the Quidditch camp – it was a little frustrating. Although, he’d have to concede the point she’d made about bickering.

“I suppose. You’d have to pay me though.”

“Of course,” Monika said, then stuffed her hands into her robe pockets. “How many Galleons would you-”

“Oh – not exactly with Galleons,” Arthur said quickly, holding up his hands. “Since the NEWTs aren’t until next year, I was hoping to ask you to teach me something.”

Monika’s nose twitched; Arthur could sense her mockery a kilometer away. “What could I teach _you_? You didn’t get anything below an Exceeds Expectations in the O.W.L.S last year. Except History of Magic.”

Ignoring the probably unintentional jab to his pride, Arthur soldiered on. “No, um. Quidditch lessons.”

“But your brothers were all part of the Gryffindor team until they graduated,” Monika replied, raising a confused eyebrow as they continued to walk and converse. “Was it because you were sorted into...”

“First Slytherin from House Kirkland in three hundred years,” Arthur said dryly, clutching his Charms textbook closer to his lean chest, feeling the edges poke at his white shirt. “Anyway, they’re all off doing work and applying for jobs and whatnot. You’re a really strong Beater, and I thought it might just work out. If you’re busy, then-”

“No, I’ll help you. I mean. I’ll do it,” Monika said, swerving so she faced Arthur – even though she was one of the tallest girls on the Slytherin team, she could only just meet his height. “Quidditch lessons, I meant. Two lessons a letter?”

“Of course,” Arthur said, fighting back an exclamation of victory. “Yeah, I’ll start thinking about the letter soon. Anonymous, as you said.” He turned to walk past Monika, but she placed one firm hand on his shoulder.

“One more thing, Arthur. What position do you plan to go for tryouts?”

Arthur paused, then looked at her again. “What do you think?”

Monika pursued her lips, and looked up and down his body for a moment in a gaze that made Arthur feel like he was under the discerning gaze of his close friend Lukas, who seemed to boil him down to his core. He’d been trapped in that stare several times before, especially when asking for favours. _Don’t forget, Arthur, I’m also Quidditch house captain. I’m very busy..._

“You’re a little too scrawny for beater, I think,” she said, staring at his arms with a scrutiny that made his ears pink. “I don’t think our captain would like to give up his title of seeker. And I’m not sure that we can get ahold of a new Keeper seeing that my brother would not be happy. So Chaser it is.”

“Well, all right,” Arthur said. It _did_ suit his body type decently. “So, when do we start? I can find a broomstick easily.”

Monika smiled, a rare expression from the serious student. “Arthur, as much as I’d love to, I can’t give you _chaser_ lessons. I do know someone else...you can get to know him better in the process, no? Everything together.”

Arthur blinked in confusion, adjusting his books again, letting his mouth hang loose. She didn’t smile. Monika Beilschmidt, fearsome Beater, extremely accomplished student, did _not_ smile. “Who?”

* * *

She _really_ had thought of everything.

Two days after his Cleansweep Thirteen – _“It’s a fine broom, it’ll do,”_ Monika had said after he’d shown her – had arrived and had been perched neatly on top of his left bedpost, Arthur was rudely interrupted whilst he was finishing his breakfast along with the rest of his house.

“Hey, Kirkland!” Alfred’s booming voice was unmistakable, but even though knowing it was the Gryffindor, Arthur couldn’t help but jump, accidentally brushing against a classmate’s now disgruntled owl. “Ready for our training session today?”  
  
Around Arthur, the other seven Slytherins in his proximity looked up from their food. Even though inter house mingling was common nearer to the end of the allotted time for meals, the very popular Gryffindor’s loud voice was attention grabbing at best.

Monika, sitting across him and two seats to his left, smiled a little behind her copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Training sessions? What for, Jones?” Arthur sputtered, a sinking feeling settling itself in his chest. “I’m not offering my tutoring serv-”

“No, silly,” Alfred snorted, waving at Monika. “Yo, Moni! Didn’t you tell him?”

“It might have slipped my mind,” Monika responded innocently, placing down her paper with a swift movement of her hand. “You did mention you’d like lessons, right, Kirkland?”

Arthur’s cheeks flared. Spending _one on one time_ with _Alfred_? “W-With _him_? Monika, I-”

_Merlin’s beard, she doesn’t **know**. Good._

Any complaint was quashed by a fierce glare from her. “Anyway, thank you for doing this, Alfred. Please take good care of him.”

“I won’t butter him up too much, because he might be my opponent this season, seeing he’s a Kirkland. They always seem to get on top of me, even though we’re on the same team.” Alfred said, squeezing Arthur’s right shoulder. “After his brother whacked that Quaffle in my face during training fourth year I’ve had a little mission to fulfill.”

“Don’t squeeze my shoulder,” Arthur protested, twisting around to look at him. Honestly. An entire summer vacation without seeing Alfred’s face, without hearing his teasing...after those long weeks, it felt like staring straight into the sun. _Stupid beam. Stupid blue eyes. Stupid blond hair. Stupid-_

Trying to ignore the curious stares of his housemates, he blushed darkly, and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll...I’ll be in your care.”

* * *

Since it was a Saturday and two months before tryouts, the Quidditch pitch’s short and carefully grown grass was devoid of footsteps other than Alfred and Arthur’s.

“So, Kirkland,” Alfred said, his right hand clutching his sleek broom, sleeker than Arthur’s. “What brought you to seek out Moni’s help? I didn’t know you two were friends.”

“Erm, we’re not exactly friends,” Arthur replied, running his thumb over the wood of his Cleansweep. “But we’re partners in Potions.”

Alfred grinned, stopping by Arthur’s side. “So...a favour for her? Hm?” The expression he made was akin to a child’s satisfied face after receiving a sweet treat. “She _is_ an awesome girl.”

 _Oh, I could just end it all here if he’s interested._ “You’re interested in her?” Arthur blurted out, almost a little too eagerly.

“What? Gosh, no,” Alfred said, shaking his head. “No, no. She’s a awesome friend to me. But that’s it, I think.”

Arthur’s thick eyebrows furrowed for a moment. _I suppose it’s never that easy._ Before he could help himself, he blurted: “Jones, are you even into girls?”

There was a very awkward pause as neither were sure of how to respond. Alfred’s mouth dangled open. Arthur studied a Slytherin viewing tower, feeling his ears turn pink.

“...H-Hey, Kirkland, and I thought we were doing _Quidditch_ practise, not gossip,” Alfred replied, laughing awkwardly, his shoulders shrugging and his hands retreating into his robes. “But to answer your question, I play for both. Happy?”

A shrouded memory flashed in Arthur’s mind of Alfred walking down with a Gryffindor classmate, with mousy brown hair and huge robes, in the corridors during fourth year. “Yes, well...sorry for asking. You’re right.”

Alfred examined him with a strange sort of gaze, peering into his eyes. “I thought you knew, Kirkland. It’s been kinda obvious.”

Arthur nodded, not quite sure how to respond. His heart was splashing around in his throat, nervousness and longing mingling together for a painful moment before he eked out a reply. “...I suppose, yes.”

They stood together, feet shuffling and fingers shifting before Alfred raised his broom and continued moving forward.

“Uh. Well then, time to whip you into shape, Kirkland! You better had been paying attention during first year!”

Arthur smiled, despite himself. He playfully reached out for the sleeve of Alfred’s white undershirt before stopping himself. _No...stop getting caught up in this sort of stuff!_

He wasn’t to woo Alfred Jones, that chance had slipped away long ago. He was doing this for his classmate. This was for Monika. And for Quidditch.

The slender fingers of his right hand skirted the back of Alfred’s black robe, careful not to alert him, before drooping to his sides.

* * *

“You’re actually not _that_ bad, Kirkland,” Alfred disembarked from his own broom, and observed Arthur’s shaky stance – Arthur hoped that he wouldn’t see his white knuckles. “You just needed a bit of training, it’s all.”

The sun had set hours ago – Arthur had nervously watched it hovering near the three silver hoops – and they could both see the lights from the Great Hall, just in time for _dinner_. It was practically a miracle that no one else showed up for practise, or just to sit on the pitch and chat. Usually there would even be a few students hanging out on the stands that Arthur could see from his dormitory, but even they were absent.

“Just a bit?” he asked, weakly. “It felt like it took a bloody lifetime.”

“Don’t your brothers tell you about Quidditch camp during the summer?” Alfred laughed, taking off his left glove. Arthur’s gaze caught on his calloused knuckles for a moment, before nodding in reply. “They’ve boasted about it too much around the dinner table. But I suppose it’s siblings for you.”

Alfred shrugged, smiling. Arthur fought harder to tear his gaze away from him. “That’s siblings for you, yeah. I mean, you’ve seen Matt and I, right?”

Ah, yes. The North American twang of their accents bounced off the hallways when they bantered in between classes. Their voices would have melded into the bastion of Ilvermorny, but not in English Hogwarts – so they stood out from the English and European population in more ways than one. “Well, yes. Your strange discussions about that _Quodpot_ would be hard to miss. I would take Matthew as a sibling any day over my brothers. But...I do understand.”

“Quodpot is awesome,” Alfred pouted, but one sharp gaze of a proud Englishman silenced that futile argument. They had just spent the day practising _Quidditch_ , after all. “All my friends seem to adore their siblings, so it’s nice to know another friend understands, ya know?”

Wait. _Wait, wait, **wait**_. Arthur froze, almost losing hold of his broom. _Friend_?

Oh no. He’d just abandoned all hope the moment the incident in fifth year had happened. And now the other boy had called him a friend?

Alfred raised a quizzical eyebrow, stopping again in the middle of the pitch to stare at Arthur’s slightly ajar mouth. “Yeah, Kirkland,” he replied, a hint of delicious defiance in his voice that made Arthur falter. “Something wrong?”

“Erm, not at all,” Arthur mumbled, suddenly and uncharacteristically at a loss for sharp words. “No, no. I was just...surprised, that’s all. I didn’t think you’d enjoy my company enough to call me a friend.”

Alfred paused for a moment, and then broke into a beam so wide Arthur was surprised it didn’t burst out of his face. “Hey! It’s a hero’s mission to make friends with almost everyone he sees! Even if they’re your rival and an old geezer _oww_...” Arthur had elbowed him in his stomach – he was lucky that he didn't do it harder! _Though_ , Arthur thought for a moment _, it’s sturdier than I thought it would be._

“Shut it,” Arthur snapped, both to himself and to Alfred. “I’m as old as you, idiot. And you don’t need to play pretend hero, we’re not children anymore.”

“But Art,” Alfred complained, stretching his arms above his head – “ _Don’t call me Art!”_ – “I don’t even need to pretend! Like, I’m hanging out with you right now. Isn’t that heroic enough? And I took on Moni’s request to help you train for pretty much free! I’m as heroic as magical heroes get!”

Before Arthur could deliver a scathing retort, Alfred bent his knees and swung his broom between his legs. In an almost joking manner, he offered his hand to Arthur, who scoffed and looked away. “What are you _doing_ , Alfr-Jones?”

“What, don’t you wanna to get back to the Great Hall for dinner in time?” Alfred smirked, sitting comfortably on the broom in such a way that Arthur would have to learn in the future – _not_ like he wanted to look cool on purpose. “It’s a lot cooler flying than walking, right.”

“My legs were made for a reason,” Arthur retorted, trying to ignore his gloved hand. “I’ll walk, thanks.”

Alfred only grinned, repositioning himself once more. “Suit yourself, Art! Whoever gets to the Great Hall slowest carries the Quidditch balls next session.”

“The Quidditch – what? Oi, Jones, you’re the brainless muscle around here! That’s not...that’s cheating! That’s unfair!” Arthur shouted, raising his voice more than he had ever since he had returned back to Hogwarts. As his frenzied footsteps kicked up dust, he could barely catch Alfred’s reply.

“Brainless muscle? Whaddya mean?” Alfred retorted, waving his gloved fist around in fake annoyance. “You _know_ me, Arthur, I’m super smart! And besides, you’re so _sloooow_.”

He was cut short; of course he almost collided with a very unamused Herbology teacher coming out of his greenhouse. “Yo, Arthur! I’m very – Professor! No, I wasn’t flying...I was...u-uh, I’m sorry, Professor, it’s not happening again-”

* * *

Whilst being chewed out by the professor by flying – it wasn’t even _flying_ flying, just hovering a little – Alfred felt a squeeze on his shoulder, then saw Arthur’s smirking expression and was that a _wink_?

 _No way,_ Alfred thought to himself. _The guy was a total prude! Didn’t know how to laugh, let alone see the signs...uh, when someone was flirting with him..._

“ _I won_ ,” Arthur mouthed, before striding past him and the professor to the Great Hall.

With that, Alfred allowed himself to forget the winter of fifth year, and watched Arthur’s retreating figure be buffeted by the glow of the hallway, the professor and the wood of his broom fading away.

Just for a moment, though.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've decided to update this every thursday at GMT, so i hope everyone enjoys it! :)
> 
> thank you so much for the engagement, it was very encouraging.

_“To the Seeker in red robes,_

_I was coming out of class just before dinner and saw you come out of the Quidditch pitch. I wanted to talk to you again, but you seemed preoccupied with a professor, so I didn’t dare intervene. I really liked your sheepish smile, though. I’d like to talk to you more often, but.._

_I feel like I should be contented with the relationship we have right now, but sometimes I’d like more. For now though, I treasure the moments we spend together as friends._

_Keep on smiling like you always do._

_\- Anonymous.”_

* * *

“What do you think?” Arthur said, turning the paper over to Monika.

Since lessons had stopped for the weekend, the pair were spending time together in the library on a Friday afternoon, while traffic was relatively low. Arthur had figured that it would be a good time for him to work out the contents of a few letters with her, and remind himself of the real reason he was spending time with Alfred at all.

He waited tensely as she turned the small note around in her hands, serious eyes moving slowly between the lines. Arthur uneasily studied his robes as the silence between the two dragged on, trying to fight off his paranoia. What if it was too short? What if it was too long? What if he had written it too messily and she didn’t understand it?

What if she could sense his feelings, the same feelings he had fought to forget? 

After what felt like an eternity, Monika placed down the parchment and cleared her throat, looking at him. “It’s excellent, Arthur. I think it communicates the ideas we came up with very well. Thank you.”

 _I managed to satisfy her expectations after all..._ Arthur thought to himself, exhaling a breath he did not know he had been holding. “That’s a relief. I put the Quidditch there as a bit of hint, so maybe he could figure it out. Though I doubt it.”

She nodded in response, folding over her robe with her thumb. “I liked the extra part about his smile,” she said softly. “You’re right about that. Does he smile a lot around you – is that why you put it?”

“I...Erm, that’s not the reason,” Arthur replied, biting his lip.

_That was reckless – I should have said yes!_

“I...I just thought about it, that’s all. To add on the things _you_ were saying. Idiot does a lot of smiling on the Quidditch pitch. Is it right, though?”

“Yes, I think so. He has a lovely smile especially when he wins-” Monika said, though she paused as a small gaggle of Hufflepuff students passed close to their proximity. “Um...Usage of toads for the potion were popularised in 1840.”

Arthur quickly mimed writing down the year, the tip of his inked quill hovering above the parchment. He had to be extremely careful to not insert his own emotions into the work. Not only would it completely invalidate his past work of trying to forget Alfred, it wouldn’t be right to Monika-

“...get off, get off! I thought you were going to Hogsmeade today, Feli, I-” Arthur was distracted from his own gloomy thoughts by a yelp from the other side of the table. Another student had thrown their arms around a-

“Feliciano?” “Feli?”

The two of them exclaimed at the same time, one confused and one surprised. The people that Feliciano had been walking with had already dispersed, so it seemed like he had stayed behind.

Feliciano Vargas, Hufflepuff and presumably her best friend, had been with the school since first year, and was one of many that went back to Europe for the holidays. His olive skin looked two shades more tan than usual, but his carefree beam had not dulled at all in its brightness rivalling the sun. Arthur remembered he’d shyly followed Monika around for the better part of first year as a little nervous wreck, but as time went by he’d managed to find his own footing and became his now endlessly cheery self.

“You two are always studying so much and doing so many school things,” Feliciano exclaimed, pouting slightly. Before either of them could interject, he’d pulled up a chair and was sitting next to Monika, one leg crossed over the other. “At least leave some time during the weekends to relax and stuff, no?”

“Feli, slow down a little,” Monika sighed, though she didn’t seem at all irritated by his presence. “You’re speaking too fast, please.”

“But that’s how I usually speak and you can understand it and everyone else can too! Anyway, what’s – oh, Arthur! You’re working with her on some super important school work, right? But...knowing you two you’ll probably get it done really easily! What’s the subject? I hope it’s not Defense Against the...um, DADA, because I really am quite bad at the subject and it’s never stuck with me, but I try very hard-”

 _There he goes_ , Arthur thought to himself as Feliciano continued to babble at top speed, hands flying around and legs swinging back and forth.

He might have pondered a little too long, as while he was off in his own daze Feliciano tapped him on the shoulder with a beam. “Hey, Arthur! You doing okay? You looked super dazed!”

“I’m sorry, Feliciano,” Arthur said awkwardly, shaking his head. “I was just thinking about the thing I was doing with Monika. I’m okay.”

“What were you doing with her? I wanna see!” Feliciano said, tilting his head to one side. Before either of them could do anything, he’d put his chin on the table and was reading intensely at the letter Arthur had wrote. Monika and Arthur exchanged panicked looks, but it was too late.

“Is this a writing assignment?” Feliciano asked, poking at the third sentence. “It doesn’t seem to mention anything about toads, or about the stuff the two of you were talking about while my classmates and I were walking around.” Big breath in between sentences. “But the language is really nice and has lots and lots of passion! Who wrote it?”

“Arthur,” Monika blurted, at the exact same time Arthur blurted out “Monika,” leaving poor Feliciano baffled and his mouth gaping.

The two of them looked at each other before Monika told him rather unconvincingly that the two of them had written it together. A _collaborative_ piece, which was pretty ironic to Arthur. It may have been written from her perspective, but Arthur had had a heavier hand writing in than he would have liked to.

He had hoped that he could have embellished it only with her ideas, but he’d let an aspect of his own feelings leak out. The same stupid feelings he’d fought so hard to forget because he knew that a relationship would never work between him and the Gryffindor seeker again.

The owlery covered in snow flashed for a moment in his head, before he pushed it away. Arthur had already wasted a night in his bed thinking back to that night in fifth year.

Alfred mustn’t know. Alfred must _never_ know.

* * *

“You two go on ahead,” Arthur said, waving to Monika and Feliciano, “I have to go drop a few things off.” _And the note_ , he tried to communicate to Monika exclusively with a sharp raise of his thick eyebrows. Hopefully she got the message or he would just look weird.

During their stint in the library, Arthur and Feliciano had spent a little time chatting whilst Monika copied the note in her restrained, neat handwriting. The usual things, such as Feliciano’s Gryffindor brother Lovino, his summer vacation at his family home in Rome and the socks he were wearing for the day were enough to distract him from investigating what his best friend was copying.

“Of course, Arthur!” Feliciano chirped, then linked his arm with Monika’s to her chagrin. “Come with me and everyone else to Hogsmeade one day, okay? When you and Moni aren’t so busy with work like you two were today! Okay? Okay, see you later!”

“Thanks,” Monika mouthed before she let herself be dragged away by him, barely managing to keep up. Arthur allowed himself a small smile at their easy, consistent friendship, and then continued onto the corridor just outside of the Gryffindor dormitories.

It took longer than he had hoped for, but just as Lukas had told him, the loud _clomping_ of boots on the marble of the Hogwarts floors echoed off the walls. One of Alfred’s best friends, Gryffindor beater Matthias, had come back for his dorm rendezvous before dinner.

Arthur had asked how Lukas knew his schedule so well, but was met with a tight lipped expression and embarrassed avoidance of eye contact. He didn’t know that the seemingly random piece of information would ever come in handy, but here he was.

Reaching into his pocket, he tapped the note once and recited “ _Wingardium Leviosa_ ,” in a hushed voice, even though Arthur was certain he wouldn’t be heard over Matthias’s booming greeting to the Fat Lady.

“Password?” she asked, not appearing to notice the yellowed floating note bobbing its way to Matthias’s pocket – thankfully, neither did he.

“STOAT CHOIR _,_ ” Matthias cheered, thrusting a fist in the air. “That’s the right one, right? Right?”

The Fat Lady did not appear amused as she swung open, revealing a room filled with red. “The password was changed four days ago, Mr Kohler. It would do you well to remember.”

“Can this Dane stay still for more than three seconds?” Arthur muttered under his breath, waving his wand a little higher so the note settled quietly into Matthias’s now stationary pocket.

After yelling the password for everyone within a two kilometre distance, Matthias skipped into the Gryffindor common room. The painting swung shut and there was silence in the corridor.

With a sigh, Arthur placed his wand back into his pocket and got up from his crouching position. For a moment he thought that Matthias would have ran straight into the room without him being able to place it in his pocket-

Any coherent thought was completely interrupted by a loud “BOO!” just behind him that made Arthur shriek. He whipped around, expecting to see one of the castle ghosts, but he only saw Alfred’s smirking face.

“Alfred F Jones!” Arthur yelled, his face on fire. “What in Merlin’s beard were you doing here, sneaking up on me like that!”

“Hey, I could ask you the same thing!” Alfred replied, folding his arms and jutting out his chin, clearly suppressing a laugh or three. Arthur couldn’t help but hitch his breath at the drastically shortened distance between them, and took a step back. “Last time I checked, you’re not a Gryffindor. So whaddya doing near our common room?”

“N-Nothing! I was just walking around there to, erm...” _Make something up...make anything up!_ “All right, erm...you caught me.” Arthur had no idea what Alfred had caught him doing, and he didn’t know how to make up a secret that wasn’t the truth.

Never mind, he wanted to punch off the smug expression that had bloomed on Alfred’s face. “Heh, I knew it! As expected of a Slytherin. Too bad you were foiled by the hero-”

“I was looking out for Matthias, all right?” Arthur sputtered, stuffing his pockets with his hands and looking away. _There_.

It took a moment for the smugness to completely disappear and be replaced with a strange emotion that Arthur couldn’t quite understand. “Looking out...for Matthias?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, hunching up his shoulders and refusing to meet Alfred’s intense eyes, “Is that so hard to believe I care for others?”

“No,” Alfred replied too quickly, “Duh, it’s not, but...Matthias? I didn’t even know the guy was your type.”

 _Oh no._ “Alfred...no, Jones, it’s not what you think it is,” Arthur said hurriedly, shaking his head until he thought he’d lost enough of his dignity. “It’s not like that at all. I’m not looking out for him for my own sake-”

“-Then who are you keepin’ an eye on him for?” Alfred, sounding strangely irritated, demanded – then stopped as he probably realised how awkward he was making the situation. “I-I mean, knowing you, you’re just gonna try to hex one of my best friends, and as the hero I won’t allow that!”

“No, you buffoon, I’m not hexing him,” Arthur retorted, “I’m keeping an eye out for him for Lukas. Slytherin captain? Jog your memory? He asked me to make sure Matthias managed to remember the password today. That’s all.”

Alfred stared at him for another moment, the same unknown emotion swimming in his eyes before he relaxed. “Yeah. Oh, those two...yeah I can sorta see it now. My bad for jumping to conclusions, Arthur.”

 _That’s unexpected_ , Arthur thought to himself – Alfred had been quick to withdraw compared to usual. Had he been too abrasive in deflecting him?

“That’s all right, Alfred,” Arthur said, unconsciously softening his tone while trying to express his regret. “You were just looking out for him.”

The pair stood together in awkward silence for awhile before Alfred piped up. “So, uh...want to have another Quidditch lesson? This Tuesday? I think we have a DADA lesson together, so we don’t have to meet up in between and just go straight to the pitch.”

“That sounds...good,” Arthur nodded, twisting his sleeve in between his thumb and forefinger. _More one on one time with Alfred..._ “Yes, that sounds good. Let’s go to the pitch together after the class.”

“Awesome, it’s a-” Alfred said, but stopped just short of a word which he looked painfully embarrassed about for a heartbeat. “Yeah! Nice plan! Before I forget, though, you gotta bring your protective gear since we’re dealing with Quidditch balls next lesson. Works for you?”

“Yes, thank you,” Arthur said, nodding once. “Well then, get some rest before dinner, Alfred.”

“You too,” Alfred said, smiling before he walked away to stand in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait. Arthur waited until he entered the Gryffindor common room to be alone with his thoughts.

Arthur desperately wished he hadn’t gotten used to being mesmerised by Alfred’s mouth when he talked – his lips had closed in on the word _date_ before had stopped himself.

_I’d want something like that with you again._

No. He mustn’t. He had promised Monika that he’d get Alfred’s affections to be directed to her, and not to revisit his own affections ever again. Arthur had seized that hope and strangled it with his own bare hands last year, and there was no reason why it could ever have a chance of returning. Alfred was just toying with him, playing with his memories as a way of getting even the smallest revenge on him for his cowardly act. There. It would be easier to hate him that way.

Suddenly seeing him again had caused all his feelings for the other boy to come surging back, choking him and threatening to overwhelm him again. The rush of emotion from Alfred when he talked about Matthias, the outstretched hand from Saturday’s lesson, the interaction he’d just had with him – everything felt as if the wizarding world had come back to taunt Arthur.

No, he couldn't convince himself of such a falsehood. Not when he'd known him so well for so long.

“Hey, Alfred!” Matthias’s heavily accented voice reverberated around the common room so loudly that even Arthur heard it through the supposed enchantments, breaking him out of his deep thoughts. “I found this thing in my pocket, but uh, I think it’s for you, buddy!”

As Arthur stood quietly, he heard Alfred exclaim “Huh?” but didn’t stay around for too long afterwards. The letter was delivered and the plan to set up Monika with him was in play. Monika with Alfred. Alfred with Monika. Not with someone like him.

Walking back down the hallway, Arthur desperately tried to convince himself that he no longer yearned for Alfred’s company even as his footsteps were uncertain and Arthur’s mind was on Alfred’s laughing voice.

* * *

Even during dinner, when he’d told Monika that he’d delivered the note, she’d paused him on his way to his seat next to Lukas.

“Arthur...are you all right?” she said, a worry line forming underneath her forehead. “You look a little uncomfortable. Did something, er, happen, near the Gryffindor room? If you were spotted, I apologise.”

“I’m all right, Monika,” Arthur replied, fighting away a hitch in his throat. Alfred's laughter ringing through the halls echoed in his mind. “I was almost spotted but. It was all right in the end. I think I heard Alfred being given the letter, so there’s no need to worry.”

“Thanks again,” Monika said, nodding once. “I hope your Quidditch lessons are going well.”

Arthur nodded, keeping eye contact for a second before breaking away and settling into his seat next to Lukas. His friend was nowhere to be found; one look into the sea of blond heads at the front of the Great Hall convinced Arthur that it would really be like finding a needle in a haystack of blond hair.

Not being able to help himself, he scanned the Gryffindor table for a sign of Alfred and his silly cowlick, but couldn’t see anything discerning. Silently chastising himself, Arthur committed to studying the woodwork whilst also keeping an eye out for Lukas.

After a few minutes had passed, he _did_ see Matthias coming to the Great Hall with Lukas in tow. Amusedly, Lukas seemed more flustered than usual, his hands stuck to his tie and a slight flush splashed across the bridge of his nose. Arthur’s mood lightened significantly as soon as Lukas managed to free himself from Matthias’s dogged attention and plopped on the bench next to Arthur.

“ _You’re_ doing very well, Lukas,” Arthur snickered as Lukas swivelled around to face him. "Finally confessed, I hope?"

“ _You_ are dead, Arthur,” he growled, straightening his tie for the tenth time. “Matthias for _some_ reason seems to have suddenly gotten a bogus idea that I was looking out for him! I don’t know why, but he told me that Alfred told him, and _you’re_ with...”

Looking at Arthur’s stricken expression, Lukas cleared his throat. He may have forgotten, just a little bit, over summer vacation, that Arthur and Alfred were no longer glued to the hip like they’d used to be. Arthur wouldn’t give him any further details, but clearly something had happened when Lukas went home for winter break last year.

“You’re still close with Alfred, so who else could it be?”

“Perhaps he just noticed,” Arthur said, but his voice was listing and Lukas could tell he was clearly distracted by the darting of his eyes at the Gryffindor table and uneven tone. Maybe he wasn’t as over Alfred as he had thought previously. “It is quite obvious that you have feelings for Matthias, though.”

 _See, he still has feelings for Alfred that he wouldn’t confess to anyone in the observable galaxy, but I can’t tell him that,_ Lukas grouched. He settled with jabbing Arthur in the ribs with a huff.

Arthur barely flinched, as the moment Lukas was being embarrassed again Alfred had appeared with Gilbert, another one of their Slytherin classmates, at the front of the Great Hall. They talked, and Arthur couldn’t help but look at his smiling expression again.

“Arthur,” Lukas breathed, poking him in the ribs though the motion was much gentler this time. “You’re, um. Staring.”

“Sorry,” Arthur mumbled back, and managed to look away when food filled the various plates and chalices a few moments later. Lukas was right, once again. He shouldn’t even be searching for him – and after a few bites of creamy mash he was able to push his worries to the side. He’d just have to get through this week without overthinking it, and then he should be fine.

Meanwhile, when Alfred and Gilbert clapped eyes on the suddenly appearing food on the table, they made a beeline for their seats.

Though something, Gilbert thought, was off: “Hey, Alfred, cheer up, alright? Food’s here, take your mind off whatever you’re thinking about.”

“Yeah, I will,” Alfred said cheerfully – a little bit forced, but at least Gilbert could tell it wasn’t completely faked. “Have a good dinner.”

Alfred couldn’t help himself, though, not anymore. Once he saw Gilbert settle down in his seat next to his fellow Slytherins, his eyes wandered to Arthur. He was eating, of course, but there was a listlessness in his movements that mirrored Alfred’s own.

Trying to push it away, he turned away and found a seat between his enthusiastic housemates and began eating, but he knew in the back of his mind that as soon as he sunk into his bed that he would drift off to sleep thinking of nothing but the day’s encounters.

Even as he lay underneath his bed and listened to the soft snores of his housemates, he allowed a traitorous flare of hope to bloom in his chest.

* * *

_“Alfred, you have to understand...it’s not your problem. I just don’t think it’s right to hide it from you anymore.”_

_“Arthur...what is it? I know you wanted to see me, but what’s wrong? You can always tell your hero what’s up.”_

_In response, Arthur held out the letter, eyes blazing._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've decided to update this every thursday at GMT, so i hope everyone enjoys it! :)
> 
> hopefully you enjoy this chapter - thank you for reading!

“ _To the seeker in red,_

_I hope you managed to receive my note – it was hard to figure out how to deliver it to you, but I found a way. I hope you didn’t think it was a joke, because my feelings are truly all too serious._

_Walking past you and waving at you during the lesson change today was the highlight of my day. Even if nothing comes of these notes, I’m more than happy to know that we’re on terms to the point where you’d greet me and remain friends._

_If I’ve remembered it correctly, together we have a lesson today, so maybe I’ll smile at you from a distance and appreciate your shine. Though I should be focusing on my lessons, I’d be much happier with focusing on you._

_\- Anonymous.”_

_That seems sufficient,_ Arthur thought to himself as he folded the small piece of parchment into four and stuffed it into his pant pocket. The autumn weather had warmed to the point where he could wear his sweater vest and call it a day – though he’d lost his deep pockets of his robes, for a note of a conspicuous size it did the job.

After having relatively exciting Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons for the past few weeks, today the professor seemed to have realised his students were having too much fun learning non verbal spells and set some mundane written work. Arthur may not have been particularly talented at casting spells, but he was a dab hand at remembering them, so he’d finished the task early. He wasn’t due to meet up with Monika until Thursday, but it was good to finish the task early.

Against all odds, he’d made it to Tuesday without thinking about it too much. It was a shame that he didn’t have any time because he was too busy with classwork on Sunday, had lessons from nine to six on Monday, and only managed to sneak in two reads of _Quidditch of the Ages_ before today (in between delusions of grandeur for being accepted into the team after the tryouts).

 _No book would physically prepare me to dodge or catch balls, much less control the Quaffle,_ Arthur thought despairingly, picking at the corner of his completed paper.

_No book would prepare me to deal with the session, either._

Two rows behind him, Alfred was wiggling his quill between his forefinger and his middle finger, stuck on the fourteenth question. It had seem to come so naturally when he was actually performing nonverbal spells, but remembering the specific spellings made his mind go numb.

He had been too busy talking tactics with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team over the weekend and neglecting his homework that he didn’t even think to study. Studying was boring, anyway, and reminded him a little too much of, well...

Taking a peek around, he noticed that a few of his classmates were looking over their DADA textbooks. Maybe that would help him with spelling, Alfred thought, so he reached into his bag and fished out his copy of _Confronting the Faceless_.

It only occurred to him that he had put the mysterious note inbetween its pages as he pulled it free and the note fluttered from it, landing gracefully on the floor. Scooping it up hurriedly, he’d deposited it back into the textbook before looking around to make sure no one had seen it.

Now he _couldn’t_ think about DADA, even though it was arguably his favourite subject. He couldn’t even think about the Quidditch strategy meeting, about all the ways he could play around having a Beater build for a Seeker, for the match against Hufflepuff in four weeks. He wasn’t even thinking about the tryouts that he’d have help organise for said match.

Alfred was too fixated on the memory of himself rereading the note, over and over again, to care about the nonverbal spell for the stupid test.

Who could have possibly wrote it? It was too small and compact to be Matthias’s messy handwriting, even though the dude handed it to him in the first place. Alfred knew writing a note wasn’t his style either, since it was too subtle – Matthias would get on top of a table in the Leaky Cauldron in Hogsmeade and profess his undying love. He didn’t see anyone past Arthur in the small timeframe that the note had mentioned, so that was a completely lost cause.

 _I’m gonna have to wait and see if they do send me another note,_ Alfred thought to himself, turning over the page to hide it from sight once more. _Man...I have no idea who wrote that, though._

At the same time though, Alfred knew that he wasn’t sure what he’d do when he found the person. Would he be relieved? Triumphant at his discovery?

Disappointed, that it wasn’t from... _him_?

Before the incident last year, Alfred would have run straight to Arthur to ask him to help decipher the note, but he knew that was out of the question now. They’d reverted back to Quidditch lessons and the light teasing around the school, and he was not going to push what little interaction they still had beyond the brink. Not even if Alfred still wanted more after everything that had happened.

“He’s coming,” Lovino, Alfred’s classmate who he usually sat next to (and fellow slacker), gave his chair a kick as a warning. Sure enough, their professor was walking down the aisle, a serious expression on his face. He bent his head as he walked past Arthur’s desk, then his expression lightened whilst appraising his work. Of course, with Arthur being a top student, there was nothing but praise.

Alfred didn’t feel any jealousy but rather a dumb happiness when he saw Arthur fight back a smile, clearly pleased at their professor’s praise. Even from a distance, it was mesmerizing to see the other boy glowing with pride.

“How is everyone getting on with their work?” their professor continued, until he stopped at Alfred’s desk. Thankfully ignoring the textbook, he peered at his paper before pulling himself upwards, not saying a word. Alfred daren’t look up at his teacher’s expression.

“Remember, students, you can find the correct spelling of _Protego horribilis_ in your copy of _Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts_ , chapter 23...”

* * *

Once the lesson had ended, Arthur hurriedly packed his things and made a beeline for the entrance. He’d almost done it in such a hurry that Alfred complained later that it felt like he was running away from him.

“That was kinda mean, you know,” Alfred pouted, as the two of them arrived at the Quidditch pitch. It was a little bit past four in the afternoon, and the sun was starting to set – the floodlights on the side of the pitch had turned on already. Coupled with the fact that there were only a handful of barely visible students on the side lines, the atmosphere was quiet. “It’s like you didn’t want to be seen around me.”

Arthur snorted, fastening his elbow pads. “That might be justified, because you forgot how to spell _Protego horribilis_ and were opening the wrong textbook. Even great Seeker captains have to memorise spellings.”

“Hey, I’m good at actually _casting_ those spells,” Alfred huffed; placing down the wooden box that contained all the balls Arthur would need for the session. “I’m just not good at spelling them, but it’s not like any Dark wizard would point his wand at me and demand me to spell them out loud.”

“Tell that to your N.E.W.T examiners!”

“ _You’re_ horribilis!”

Huffing and turning away, the two of them continued to put on their protective gear for their practise session in relative silence. Alfred managed to put his on like he’d been doing it since infancy and was examining the Quaffle when he noticed Arthur struggling with his last knee guard and muttering a bunch of colourful curses.

Alfred placed down the Quaffle into the box and gently knelt, pushing away his fringe to see the straps clearer. “Hey, let me,” he murmured without thinking, tugging the straps and fastening the hooks. He gripped the back of Arthur’s right knee to secure it, with a barely restrained strength that made Arthur felt uncomfortably fragile.

 _No, that’s the cold_ ; Arthur tried to convince him as his breath billowed out in clouds as he stood. Not the proximity of the other boy, or the unending kindness that he continued to show him after everything else had happened. When he felt the knee guard click into place on his leg, he held out a hand to Alfred to help him upwards.

This sent Alfred jerking slightly forward, and once again the two of them were closer than Arthur expected – so close, in fact, that he noticed their breaths mingling, just like the last time...

“Thank you,” Arthur said, turning away sharply to not meet Alfred’s deep blue eyes, composing himself for a moment. _Stop thinking about him like that._ “I appreciate it.”

“It’s cause I’m a hero,” Alfred exclaimed, though it did sound more muted than usual. Still, it was accompanied with the usual wink. “You should try practising fastening the knee guards when you’re in your room before tryouts, ‘kay?”

Arthur’s heart ached for his soft smile. He kept that secret locked up within his guarded stance as he continued to speak. “I’ll try this weekend,” he said. “All right then, can you walk me through them?”

“Okay, so – this is the one you’ll have to care about the most since you’re trying out to be a Chaser,” Alfred said, giving the Quaffle a firm pat. “It has this handy Gripping Charm on it, and feels way lighter than it looks, so it should still be okay for a scrawny Chaser like you.”

Arthur opened his mouth to sharply interject, but Alfred had already cheerfully moved on to the second ball, happily not reading the atmosphere. “This thing is called the Bludger. Kinda should have named it pain in the ass, because that’s what it is. There’s two in each match, and their purpose is to get you off your broom. Your Beater – that’s Moni – should be protecting the rest of the team from these murderers.”

Drat. Arthur was going to segue into a conversation about her, but he really wanted to know more about actually _being_ chased by them. “Does anyone actually die from being attacked by these Bludgers"

“Nah,” Alfred grinned, “They’re just the worst when they’re chasing your broom, and the two balls don’t actually try to aim for you. Just watch your back and you’ll be fine, I think. Might have a nasty injury but they don’t kill.”

“I see...” Arthur said, swallowing tightly. He had Skele-Gro once in his childhood, never again. “What’s that one do specifically in terms of my role?” Arthur asked, boldly reaching out to touch the small gold Snitch embedded in the top of the box. It was cool and smooth to the touch, with engravings creating grooves that he could run his gloved fingers against.

“Of course you know that’s the Snitch,” Alfred said, taking it from Arthur’s outstretched hands. “Though this one is special. Each Snitch responds to only the person who caught it, so if people aren’t sure which Seeker caught it they can use the Snitch to figure it out after the game.”

As soon as Alfred’s bare fingertips touched it, a pair of wispy golden wings flickered to life for a moment before folding back into itself. “I caught this one last year, remember? In the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw finale, heh.”

Yes, Arthur did remember. He remembered cheering at the top of his lungs as soon as Alfred emerged triumphant from his dive, the Golden Snitch glittering in the fading sun. He’d sped down from the side lines and waited at the exit of the pitch, waiting to throw his arms around Alfred...

“As a Chaser, the one thing you should know is that you shouldn’t catch it. You should also focus on scoring more, but if you see a Seeker that’s not me, well...you should try to knock them around a bit, yeah?” Alfred said, oblivious to the fact that Arthur was stewing over the memory in his mind. Did he already get over it, or was he just trying to forget the happiest time in Arthur’s life?

“Well, I’m not going soft on you, Alfred Jones,” Arthur huffed – at least he knew that was true of himself. “So, just play like a normal Quidditch game. I’ve seen enough of those, so I understand.”

“Nah,” Alfred countered, “It’s not the same watching than it is trying to score points while trying to not be hit by a Bludger. Let’s give it a go, yeah?”

Arthur looked at the Bludgers, the black iron balls staring meanly at him from their ominous looking cages. They certainly looked worse compared to when he was sitting in the stands. “Erm. Yes, let’s.”

* * *

“This should be high enough,” Kiku said, rearranging his legs as he sat down.

Unbeknownst to Alfred and Arthur, the people in the ‘Reunite Arthur and Alfred’ club with actual indoor voices had assembled at the top of a connecting castle bridge to both have a meeting, and to observe whether their plan was coming together as they were hoping it would.

“Are you sure no one is going to come over?” Monika said nervously, unfolding her small book bag and pulling out a pair of binoculars. Sure enough, the two of them were starting to take flight on their broomsticks. “It just seems odd.”

“Not at all,” Lukas said, his voice cool. He didn't sit back down without taking a look at both ends of the corridor, though. “Lessons are over for the day, and this way does not lead to any dormitories. Besides, I can just say I’m scouting for the Quidditch tryouts next next week. No one will challenge me for that.”

The rest of the trio nodded in quiet agreement, then continued watching. Monika passed the binoculars to Lukas quietly then turned to speak to Kiku.

“Is it going as you envisioned?” she asked the Ravenclaw, who was peering myopically at his notes.

Monika herself had essentially spearheaded the whole plan. After spending a lot of time with Alfred at the aforementioned Quidditch camp over the summer, she had noticed his forlornness and lack of babble about her Potions partner, so had suspected something was up. Once term had started, she’d spoken to a handful of their close friends about a possible incident that had happened between them, and the group had bloomed from there.

From there, it had been a matter of hatching an actual method. Francis had proposed making either of them jealous, which had been shot down because it would probably backfire. Feliciano had suggested seeking out the Room of Requirement and locking them in there for three days, but that was rejected because Alfred was physically very hard to abduct, even though Matthias had volunteered to drag him there – and the Room might even throw them out before the three days were up.

Monika’s own plan of pretending to be interested in Alfred and have Arthur help her with courting him seemed to work with most of the members. By the group coming together to suggest a number of aspects that would resonate the most with Arthur, it seemed easy to set up situations where the two of them could rekindle whatever emotions that they seemed to have lost. At least, the same emotions that disappeared after the two of them had stayed back for winter break.

“My, my,” Lukas murmured behind the binoculars, “Arthur is coming along quite well for a Chaser. He might actually stand a chance in the tryouts.”

Monika stood up from her sitting position, squinting down at the Quidditch pitch. “He’s throwing it towards the hoops – and-”

“Miss Monika, please,” Kiku said, tapping the floor in a gesture for her to be a little quieter. “They are probably busy but I would like to not be noticed.” Even though Kiku didn’t play Quidditch, he would prefer for his two Slytherin friends to be focused on the task and not the sport itself. As a Ravenclaw, he was smart enough to not let them have even this extra edge.

“They seem to have taken the initiative,” Monika said, sitting down and leaning on the back of the bridge with one leg up. Lukas continued to peer at the two of them. “I think the note idea you brought forward worked.”

Kiku nodded once, his dark hair dithering in front of his face. “Yes, I believe so. I did see them exchange eye contact briefly at the Great Hall last night.”

“Though,” Monika began haltingly, and he looked straight at her, “I’m not sure if it is the cause of their fracturing, but I’ve noticed Arthur’s been a bit distracted these past few Potions lessons. With this now happening, I was wondering if it would be more exaggerated.”

“Possibly. Could you keep an eye on him on the lesson – whenever that will happen?”

“We have a Potions lesson on Friday.” Monika replied, her eyes drifting upwards as she tried to remember her schedule. “Maybe we could ask the other members of the group to meet up after Arthur and I go over the rest of the note he’s written for me?”

“Oh, just short,” the two of them heard Lukas mumble. “Arthur better not be too distracted.”

Kiku smiled a little. “The two of them better thank us when this is all over, requiring so many of their friends to conspire together. Friday afternoon at five, at the stone circle?”

“Making us do all this exercise, Kiku,” Lukas complained softly, not dragging his eyes away from the binoculars – perhaps he was a little _too_ invested in the actual game as Slytherin captain. “All right.”


	4. Chapter 4

_"To the seeker in red,_

_You never cease to make me laugh. I know that you are somehow a well accomplished student, especially Defense Against the Dark Arts, but the blunder you had in class made me smile uncontrollably. I’m sure you weren’t able to notice, but I was snorting underneath my paper._

_This might sound odd, but it’s nice to laugh with you. Not only do I have an excuse to hear that silly voice echo off the walls, though I have to admit that you help me have fun when I know I cannot find it within myself._

_\- Anonymous."_

* * *

The rest of the week came and went without much fanfare.

After the practise session, Arthur had borrowed the Quaffle from the set and had practised a few moves in his room and between lessons. Rumours were already brewing in the Quidditch circles around campus that he was considering attending tryouts.

Thankfully they weren’t too cruel: things such as “Another Kirkland playing Quidditch!?” “Arthur Kirkland’s a sixth year, it’s taken him much longer than his brothers but about time,” and “The Slytherin Quidditch captain’s his friend, right? Lukas Bondevik must be pleased.”

Still, the lessons he and Alfred shared were still relatively private – apparently Alfred and Monika had put their heads together and managed to coordinate a time where he and Alfred would have the pitch largely to himself - or at least that’s what Alfred told him.

It confused him though, to the point when Arthur asked about after practise why it was so important that the two of them had a relatively private practise match. “It’s not in house practise, so how do you know I won’t try to wheedle out intelligence from Gryffindor?”

“Wheedle?” Alfred asked, tipping his head to one side – Arthur had to hastily explain the slang while trying to not smile at his cute expression. “Ohh. Nah, I mean Slytherins are hella sneaky, but we don’t need that sorta stuff to win the House Cup. We’re already the best team in Hogwarts!”

“Who said that?” Arthur sputtered indignantly, but Alfred had already pulled ahead and kept on speaking: “And I dunno, but you seem to play better when you’re confident, so maybe having a bunch of students watch you play and stuff might not be good.”

That made Arthur pause. “How did you figure that out, Jones – er, Alfred?”

“Simple,” Alfred grinned, leaning back on his broomstick, “Remember that one time you got so pressed in first year that you snapped that Shooting Star’s broom?”

“No,” Arthur said. _Yes. But I’m more than surprised you remembered..._

“That was the funniest repairing charm I’ve seen, but...yeah. I just thought it would be easier to help you get reach your goal.”

“Do you think I’ll be able to reach it?” Arthur asked, his gaze unfocused. The question echoed around his head – what if he didn’t manage to make it to tryouts? “You know. A position in the team?”

Arthur didn’t catch Alfred’s smile. “Yeah, I really think so. Not just because Lukas’s your friend, but you’re a Kirkland after all. And you’ve been making great progress! We’ll make a Chaser of you yet, Art!”

“Praising really seems to come easily to you,” Arthur said, smiling in spite of himself. “Though, I’m thankful.”

Alfred looked at him, his mouth slightly agape. Arthur was...smiling? Saying nice things to him again? _Being_ nice to him again?

“W-What is it?” Arthur sputtered, looking away once more and fighting away an indignant flush. “Is...is it so weird I’m thankful? It’s not like...I’m really happy or anything...”

 _Heh...it’s like he’s gone back to normal programming_ , Alfred thought internally. Reaching out for Arthur’s shoulder, he was about to tease him even further until he heard someone call for him in the corridor – the voice was all too familiar.

“Toris!” he called out, straightening out his broom and running out, Arthur following behind him. He was relieved that Alfred wasn’t noticing his deflated expression.

Sure, they had only been together briefly, but that wasn’t what Arthur was concerned about regardless...it meant that they would only be discussing one thing, and that was the letter last winter.

“Did they accept you for the regional tryouts at home? You wrote me a letter about it and stuff before you left home for Hogwarts,” Alfred babbled happily, “I haven’t heard back from them since winter, but they _did_ say they’d write me next year!” Uncharacteristically, he paused abruptly, but Arthur couldn’t see his face.

Toris looked a little over his shoulder to spot the dithering Arthur. “No, I’m still waiting to hear back since I applied as a manager - oh hello, Arthur, are you doing all right?”

 _No_. “Yes,” Arthur said awkwardly, a cheerful expression that didn’t quite reach his eyes – he respected the fellow Hufflepuff, but they weren’t particularly close since they only really had Alfred in common. “How’s Hufflepuff Quidditch coming along? We were just practising for tryouts.”

 _I’m not sure how to draw this conversation away from Quidditch entirely,_ he thought, _but I can at least try..._

Toris was fast enough to understand to Arthur’s relief – it was a shame that his talent for reading the atmosphere had not rubbed off on Alfred throughout their relationship. “It’s doing well, according to Matthew. I heard around the school that you were planning to enter the tryouts for Slytherin house this year?”

“Yes, I was since Alfred so kindly offered his assistance.” A genuine smile though, this time. “I suppose the news travels around quickly.”

“With the reputation your brothers had, yes,” Toris said kindly, “Not to mention the praise Alfred has had for your progress.”

Now _that_ took him by surprise – it clearly took Alfred off guard as well, who had red splashed across the bridge of his nose. “He’s...spoken highly of me?”

Alfred’s mouth opened then closed again, at a lost for words. _Damn it, Toris,_ he thought as he looked at the Lithuanian’s cheerful expression, _you weren’t supposed to tell!_

“S-So what if I did?” Alfred muttered under his breath, avoiding Arthur’s green eyes. No, he was _not_ embarrassed! “I can't lie, man. Your Quidditch is coming along really good. I’m kinda worried I’d face you at finals this year. So even though I might be training my opponent, it’s a hero’s duty!”

 _He hasn’t changed at all,_ Toris and Arthur thought at the exact same time, though it was slightly relieving regardless of the tension between Alfred and Arthur. _Though, it seems like the two of them have something to sort out in private._

“Alright, I should be going now,” Toris said cheerfully, “Alfred, let me know when you get your response back if you don't mind?”

“Ah...yeah, gotcha buddy,” Alfred called after his retreating form, but as soon as the two of them were left alone it did feel a little bit tense.

“You really thought...I stand a chance in the tryouts?” Arthur said quietly, and Alfred noticed the grip on his broomstick tightened. “All jokes aside.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, beaming. “You know! You go all _fwoosh_ and _swish_ and then _fwahh_ then swoop down, I thought you did hella good with the Bludger dodging last week too.”

“Er, the Queen’s English, please,” Arthur said, not quite how to respond to praise when it was put in such a bizarre format – but that might just be a deflection. “But thank you, Alfred. Your confidence in me means a great deal.”

It would be very hard to mistake the pride radiating from Alfred’s reddened cheeks. “Sometimes I guess that’s all you need, huh?”

Before Arthur knew it, Alfred had grabbed his hand and held it in his own, surrounding it with his own warmth. Almost instantly, his ears turned red – why all of a sudden? It was uncalled for; it was so rude of Alfred to do something like that!

“Alfred, what – hey! What possessed you to do something as daft as this?” Arthur sputtered, almost tripping over his words in embarrassment. “It’s not...I’m not...”

_But Arthur, you’re not letting go of my hand, though._

“Hey, Arthur,” Alfred said, his voice soft and lilting in the autumn atmosphere. Arthur gingerly looked up to meet his eyes, and was surprised that they were brimming with emotion. “Don’t forget, you were the one who believed in me first.”

 _But,_ Arthur thought silently, sad and angry and overwhelmed at the memory it instantly brought up, though it was only for a moment. _That doesn’t matter if I was the person who held you back for so long._

* * *

Hogwarts was mostly empty for Christmas, and it was no exception during the winter of their fifth year.

Since most of the students had returned home (mostly to the rest of Europe), very little students either chose to not go home or didn’t want to make the trip. Alfred and his brother Matthew, along with a few students who didn’t live quite nearly as close or as conveniently as most of the student body, usually decided to stay at Hogwarts.

What was different than usual was that Arthur this year decided to stay behind – not for avoiding family, or out of laziness, but just to be with a certain someone.

Since the portraits had essentially decided to take Christmas break off, the usually uptight security around both Slytherin and Gryffindor dorms had been relaxed. One night, Alfred and Arthur sat curled up together in one of the sofas in Slytherin common room looking out into the Great Lake, watching the moonlight filter in and out. They hadn’t even lit a fire that evening, so they simply sat awash in the other’s bodily heat, counting fingers, ankles, wrists, breaths.

“Arthur,” Alfred had mumbled – he probably had thought Arthur had fell asleep at that point – “I really like you...”

He had been far too embarrassed to comment or anything like that then, but made an extra point to ensure his burning cheeks were covered by his palms. The words stuck with him, and he knew in that moment he’d always want to stick with the other wizard.

After that night though, the two of them had made the fated trip to the owlery. It had been a dusky night, right after they had finished eating dinner in a very quiet and excruciatingly empty Great Hall.

One of the castle ghosts had flown in as soon as they were finishing up with their last meals. Stopping before Alfred, it murmured something before soaring out the way it had came.

“What’s that all about?” Arthur asked, his eyes following the ghost outside. “You didn’t possibly get into trouble with one of them, did you?”

“Naw,” Alfred grinned in between bites of his hamburger, “It’s just that we have a place to stop by before we go back to my dorm. Seems like I’ve gotten mail from the owlery.”

Arthur smiled – maybe it was a postcard from their friends, or a note from Alfred and Matthew’s mother, who was worried sick about Alfred? “In that case, Alfred, shall I race you there? No _Accio_ broomstick, of course.”

“Yeah, you’re on!” Arthur got up, ready to start, but Alfred tugged at his sleeve with a pout. “Hey Artie, where are you going? I’m still _eating_ , yanno.”

As a Slytherin, Arthur took pride in his intricate knowledge of the castle – and that's what led him to the owlery, several minutes ahead of Alfred.

Even so, he had been running a great deal, and barely had had time to catch his breath until a cawing from a filthy huge bird drowned out his thoughts. Clearly, it was an eagle of some sort – it even seemed to be frightening away a few of the perplexed owls as its beady eyes fixed themselves on Arthur, who noticed that the eagle was carrying some sort of letter.

“There you are,” Arthur said, snatching the letter from the great bird’s talons and dusting it down. _Alfred F. Jones, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ was neatly printed on the front, placated with a thick seal that bore some sort of emblem. “...I didn’t know Ilvermorny was in such desperate need of students.”

Before he could say any more though, he noticed the seal was strangely familiar, but barely had time to ponder it before Alfred crashed through the doors, pink in the face and panting.

“Artie!” he yelled, throwing his arms around him and giving him a peck in a movement so fast Arthur only had the moisture on his cheek to know it had happened. “How did you get here so damn fast, cutie?”

“As a Slytherin, I have my ways,” Arthur replied, trying to not ignore the pet name that never failed to make him self conscious, and held out the letter with one hand. “N-No matter, though – Alfred, this is for you.”

“What’s an eagle doin’ here?” Alfred asked, still out of breath – the bird made eye contact with him, and cawed one more time before flapping out of there. “That’s weird to see such a big guy here... _oh crap_!”

With trembling hands, Alfred shelled the letter out of its envelope, got to two sentences then let out a whoop, scaring the poor owls once more. Arthur watched with a slight confusion as he continued to cheer, his excited cries sending out puffs of water vapour that soared through the atmosphere.

“Artie!” he exclaimed, then without any warning darted forward to plant an overexcited kiss on the other wizard’s shocked lips, releasing him with a _pop_! “Artie, I got an letter from the American national team!”

 _Oh, so that’s why it was familiar - it wasn't the Ilvermorny seal after all._ Arthur thought, mind and body still reeling from the kiss, but Alfred’s excitement was infectious. “Tell me more – what does the letter say, my darling?”

Alfred took a deep breath before continuing to speak. “They’re saying that one of the recruiters saw the final match I had last summer, and were thinking of recruiting a different kinda Seeker to trip up the other teams, so they were asking whether I could let them come to the pitch later this week to see my performance and run me through a few of their questions and stuff!”

“Oh Alfred, I-” Arthur didn’t _quite_ know what to say or feel. There was definitely pride and excitement, but some sort of negative emotion lurked at the back of his throat. The American national team? To be honest, Arthur was a little surprised that they would go across the pond to Hogwarts but it was what it was. “I’m so happy for you.”

_That’s not a lie, but..._

Thankfully, Alfred hadn’t noticed – he was still absolutely over the moon, comparable to a puppy. He started reading out part of the letter that he clutched so hard in his hands that creases formed, and his voice flew higher and faster as he spoke.

“All expenses paid three year programme in America...leaving sixth year early to play and train as Seeker or alternative position – heh, Artie, that means I could skip the N.E.W.Ts - state of the art brooms at your disposal...training with the Quidditch team that took us to third in the Quidditch World Cup – oh man. This is nuts...”

That’s when it dawned on him. They had started to make plans to be together after Hogwarts – there was talk of Arthur studying to be a professor in Charms or Potions, and Alfred either becoming an Auror or pursuing his love of Quidditch further, but this was completely out of the blue...

 _I don’t want to lose you_ , Arthur thought as he bit his lip. _But you’re already surpassing me in everything, like you should be._

_Were my plans for us to remain together holding him down? Did he turn down any other opportunity to try out for another team because he wanted to stay with me?_

“You okay?” Alfred’s eyes were staring at him, very big and very blue. Arthur’s vision blurred. “Hey, Art, you’ve gone really quiet. Did I talk way too much?”

“No,” Arthur blurted, the outline of Alfred hazy with his tears, then fled the room, barely hearing his calls.

* * *

 _Even I remembered that memory wrong,_ Arthur thought angrily to himself, hoping Alfred wouldn’t catch his expression as they walked back to their respective dormitories. _I didn’t ruin everything starting from there, I did it later – but the beginning of the end started in that owlery in the winter._

“Thank you, for today,” Arthur said as soon as the pair stood before the Slytherin common room. “I learnt a lot, truly.”

“Hey, there’s no need to sound so formal, Art,” Alfred grinned, though his pink cheeks betrayed the fact that he was happy to receive praise. “Anytime. Whaddya say having a lesson on Wednesday? Same time, same place, duh.”

“Don’t call me Art,” Arthur mumbled, though he didn’t really mean it – being called any sort of daft nickname from Alfred sent a traitorous jolt through his heart, though it was not the same as before. “And, er, that sounds fine with me. Though I think we have a joint Potions class then, so perhaps we could have it before dinner?”

Alfred nodded once; it looked that he had something else to say but one of Arthur’s friends Vlad suddenly popped out of the common room with a mirthful expression on his face.

“If the two of you have to flirt all night, don’t do it outside where we can all hear,” he drawled, flicking Arthur’s forearm. “Break it up, you two.”

“We’re not-” the two of them started to complain, but Vlad simply winked and retreated back into the common room, waving his long fingers in greeting. “-flirting...”

“Sorry about that,” Arthur mumbled, looking down at his shoes – anywhere but Alfred’s very blue eyes once Vlad had left earshot. He wanted badly to do something so simple such as flirting with Alfred again, but... “But yes, I’ll see you on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, see you on Wednesday,” he heard Alfred say, and that was all he could bear before ducking his head and retreating back into the common room. He thought he felt Alfred’s gaze boring into his back, and secretly hoped it wasn’t his imagination as he softly closed the door behind him.

To his horror, a good dozen of his housemates were lounging around the common room having clearly caught the entire conversation. Their teasing eyes latched onto him as he made his way to the usual couch by the leftmost window that he shared with Lukas and Vlad.

“Are they still playing the game of back and forth?” Lukas called, garnering chuckles and snickers from the rest of his housemates. Vlad joined in: “Taking so long to let each other go for just the evening. Wounds my heart.”

 _It’s not that simple,_ Arthur thought to himself, but decided to give into the taunt. “You’re one to talk, everyone knows you and that Gryffindor Dane are head over heels for each other. Who’s to say that you two aren’t dating already?”

It worked like a charm. “Y-You take that back right now,” Lukas sputtered, his cheeks instantly reddening. “Nothing is happening between Matthias Kohler and I. If you say otherwise, I’ll hex you.”

“You know you want to,” Vlad muttered, hiding a smile and reclining on the couch, watching as his best friends reached into their pockets and grabbed their wands. “Psst, Arthur, are you letting him away with that?”

“You called him by his full name, the sexual tension between the two of you is ridiculous,” Arthur called out, whilst Lukas responded in tandem with a tease and a spell: “ _You_ can’t leave him alone, so why deny it any longer?”

Harmless hexes and colours flew as their housemates cheered them on.

* * *

“Hey, Gryffindor captain,” Matthias grouched as soon as Alfred slumped into the bed next to one of his best friends, “There’s been word going around that you’d been bribing the Quidditch captains to leave the pitch alone for a few hours lately. What’s with that?”

“I have, uh, no idea what you’re talking about,” Alfred mumbled, the sound muffled by the sound of him changing into his sleepwear. “Don’t believe all those dumb rumours, ha ha...”

“So why did you not have enough for all our Butterbeer on Sunday, huh?” Matthias grouched, doing an exaggerated pout. “Stingy asshole.”

“I’ll pay for your damn Butterbeer when we get a hella good team for the year _and_ you ask out Lukas,” Alfred retorted, slinging a pillow at the Dane. “Seriously, he can’t stop sending Arthur and some other goons to look after you. They’ve been clogging up the hallway.” _Convenient white lie, but whatever._

“...it’s not like you _don’t_ mind Arthur being sent after you,” Matthias smirked, propping himself up on one elbow to face Alfred, also conveniently ignoring the dig. “The two of you gotta sort it out soon, ya hear me?”

Alfred half heartedly glared at him, and then proceeded to bury his face in his pillow. “No, I don’t, man,” he responded with his voice muffled – suddenly, the playfulness had fallen to melancholy. “I really don’t know about him anymore, so...”

Matthias, though he liked to ignore the atmosphere and preferred everything to be cheery, relented and got off from his bed, pushing away Alfred’s blankets and sitting next to him. “Talk to me, buddy. D’ya still have feelings for him?”

“Yeah, but you already knew that,” Alfred replied into the pillow after removing his glasses. “I guess it’s kinda obvious. It’s just...he said that we should have split cause he’s holding me back, but that's really stupid. He talked about distance, but lately I’ve been spending a lotta time with him, but I do get not wanting to be away from each other after Hogwarts, I guess. But why can’t we spend time being together while we still can?”

Matthias frowned; he may be a good listener but he was really bad with this kinda stuff. “Al...you know your feelings towards him, ya?”

“I’m still...into him, yeah,” Alfred admitted, sighing once. “Even though he’s brushed me off, I’ve tried to get him alone since then...making sure we have the pitch to ourselves, trying to catch him in the halls, helping him with Quidditch and stuff...but it seems like all we will be are friends. I don’t wanna push it too hard either, cause it’s gonna suck if I can’t even have that.”

“Come on, you can’t settle for less,” Matthias said after the two of them sat in pondering silence for awhile. “You don’t have feelings for him as a friend, you want something more, ya? Push it then. Not gonna lie, I’m pretty sucky at this crap, but knowing what you feel is a good start. And stop bribing the other Quidditch captains so the two of you can be alone. Just, like, ask.”

“...yeah, I’ll, uh, think about it,” Alfred pouted, but smiled a little and peeked at Matthias from the side of his pillow. “Thanks, man.”

“Get some rest, buster,” came the response as Matthias clambered back into his own bed. “This kinda stuff’s gonna be sorted out when you guys talk it out. Trust your awesome friend Matthias, yeah? Yeah! Night, Al.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” Alfred snorted as the two of them drew their curtains – but couldn’t help but feel reassured that his friend really was looking out for him. “Night, dude.”

Running his fingers over his palm and remembering the honeyed sensation of Arthur’s soft hand clasping his own, he managed to find sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have to confess, i completely rewrote this entire chapter 3 days before publishing lol. hope you can't tell -_-
> 
> updates every thursday :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates every thursday :)

_“To the seeker in red,_

_It’s been a long week. It’s also one of the few times of the week where I manage to deal with my own feelings in some small crumpled up note. Even though I can’t do much without your aid, I’ve been trying to improve myself so I can start to become deserving of your affections, if not friendship._

_Since it’s going to get chilly soon, please wrap up warmly, especially during the tryouts in the next two weeks. I know you’ll complain endlessly, and as endearing as it is, I’d prefer to see you happy._

\- _Anonymous_."

Arthur fiddled with the dulled edge of the note as he watched Monika read the note he’d written. The almost painful silence stretched on for what felt like hours, before she placed the note on the seat.

The two of them had coincidentally had two free periods before their Potions lesson at five, so they met up at the Slytherin common room, which was blessedly empty. At four, the sun had already started to set, causing the crackle of the fireplace to be the main source of light as they spoke.

He’d barely parted his lips to speak before she awkwardly patted him on the shoulder, though the sadness in her gaze was unmistakable. A jolt of fear shot through his spine – was it that bad? Was she unwilling to have him write notes for her anymore? Would the Quidditch lessons stop?

...with that, the time spent with Alfred, as well?

“Arthur,” she said, her tone gentle, “I don’t think we should do this any longer. The whole letter writing thing, you know.”

“W-What?” he stuttered, his face paling. Had he really done it this time? Had she seen through his mirage? Did he not have enough self control? Was he unable to stop his feelings from spilling out after all? “Did I do something wrong?”  
  
“No, no!” Monika insisted, holding up her hands quickly – her expression was panicked. “Not at all. It’s just that...it feels wrong asking you to do such a thing for me when it’s clear you still have deep feelings for Alfred.”

That stopped Arthur in his tracks, so much so that it felt like he completely ceased to breathe. Monika watched him, unwilling to disturb their silence in the empty Slytherin common room, but the tension was palpable in her hunched shoulders. The fireplace barely registered over the pounding heartbeat in his ears.

“Monika, I’m...so sorry,” he finally managed to get out, after taking a deep breath. “I’ve completely failed you, haven’t I?”

“Not at all,” she replied taciturnly, “You did what we agreed to, and did it splendidly. It’s just that...after thinking about, and reading about what you had to say about him, I believe your feelings are far stronger than mine.”

“That’s not to say they don’t matter at all-”

“I’m not saying that,” Monika said, and thought about smiling to reassure him, but it would probably come out scary. “But I’ve had a good, long think about this, Arthur, and I’ve come to realise that I know what my feelings are, and that’s okay. I know I’m doing the right thing for myself, but are _you_?”

“...” Arthur couldn’t help but think on what she had said. Indeed, he was feeling excruciatingly guilty, but her words had done what he’d felt impossible and had lightened that burden. Was he _truly_ doing the right thing, for both himself and Alfred?

“You don’t have to think about doing something or anything like that right now,” Monika said quickly, nervous that she’d upset him. A very cautious pat on the back sealed the deal.

“I just don’t think that you’re being fair to yourself. Not only that, but also that sentence-” she pointed out ‘ _I’ve been trying to improve myself so I can start to become deserving of your affections, if not friendship,’_ “-tells me that as well. Arthur, we might not be particularly close, but that doesn’t sound right.”

“You think so?” Arthur replied, sounding baffled, barely holding back his surprise. “It had come naturally when writing it...I thought you were going to correct it-”

“That’s the problem, Arthur. Forgive me for saying this, but I think you’re being very harsh on yourself,” Monika said, her eyebrows furrowing together. “And if I’m right, you and Alfred were together for awhile, ja? You described him in such distant language when I first approached you about it, so I just wanted to confirm.”

 _I can’t lie to her._ “Yes, briefly,” Arthur said, his head drooping. Fighting back tears, he continued to speak. “I described him in that way to...forget it. I mucked things up, and...”

“It’s OK, Arthur,” Monika said, not sure how to reply to her Potions partner - her nervousness had thickened her accent somewhat, but she soldiered on. “You don’t have to tell me anything about it. I see.”

“I don’t want to burden you with this, or anyone really, I just...I’m sorry, Monika,” Arthur whispered, seemingly shrinking into himself even further. “You’re right, I’m not being honest with myself. And I’ve hurt you as well in the process.”

“Arthur, as long as the two of you can sort things out, I’m happy with how everything will turn,” she replied, and gave the smile a try. It felt more like a scowl than anything, so she quickly stopped. “Don’t worry about me.”

Arthur took a deep breath, and faced her again: “Are you sure? I could still tell him about your feelings. It’s the least I can do for you. And cancelling the Quidditch lessons...”

“Oh...no, there’s no need for that,” Monika said, feeling incredibly self conscious if her close friend were to hear something like that. Looking quickly at the clock, she found her escape route. “Or cancelling the Quidditch stuff. Listen, Lukas and I have been speaking, and you should be good for tryouts, we think.”

Even if they were assurances, Arthur couldn’t help but feel intimidated yet relieved. “Thank you...I won’t let Slytherin down.”

“Good. Well, er, Arthur, we should be going to our class now. But please, think about what I’ve said. And...”

Monika proceeded to hold out the world’s most awkward thumbs up, though a grateful Arthur managed to receive the message while they were scooping up all the notes they’d written. “Kirkland...don’t be so harsh on yourself.”

* * *

The small handful of notes seemed to burn a hole in Arthur’s pocket as he and Monika made their way to their classroom together. Even though they’d only had to put on their robes on top of their casual clothes, grab their textbooks and walk, they were still relatively late arriving compared to their usual times. As expected, Alfred and half of their classmates were already here, speaking softly amongst themselves when they stood at the entrance.

Arthur shifted his weight from side to side; a very unwelcome lump in his throat had made its presence known as soon as he saw the sunlight reflecting off of Alfred’s glasses. Nevertheless, he fought it back and found his seat next to Monika, mind too frazzled to even sift through the gossip that was spouting from the other students like he usually did whilst waiting for the professor.

Potions class. He was in here to learn, not to moon over someone. Thankfully he’d actually completed the homework, which he told himself to pull out and place on the workbench, along with his slightly beat up cauldron. Last week’s assignment was on page 86, the Draught of Living Death and Golpalott's _Third Law_. Arthur silently recited the law just in case they had a surprise question shot their way, managing to calm his nerves – which was completely negated by Monika’s sharp breath next to him. Looking to his side, he saw she was staring in dismay at her pristine copy of _Advanced Potion Making._

“Is it a hard potion we have to brew today?” Arthur asked, not being able to peer over her shoulder, as the candles lit in the classroom weren’t countering the rapidly darkening sky well enough. When she nodded once, curiosity got the better of him. His slender fingers prised his even more beat up textbook until he reached page 90.

Not _Amortentia_. Blast it all; of course their assignment was _Amortentia._

“You understand, right?” Monika mumbled under her breath, her cheeks the faintest shade of pink. Arthur gave her a small nod. With someone as levelheaded as her being embarrassed, it was obvious – even the brashest, most outspoken student would prefer to remain silent about what it smelled like for him or her.

Before the two had more time to languish over their assignment, their professor swept in and clapped their hands, causing everyone to scatter back to their bench. Arthur didn’t dare to look at Alfred’s silhouette.

“Please place your completed parchments on the desk when you are coming to pick up your ingredients for today. Due to the nature of today’s potion, you will be given a base to start, with no knowledge of the ingredients. Afterwards, follow the instructions outlined in page 90 of _Advanced Potion Making_.”

* * *

“Stop laughing, Gil,” Alfred grumbled, trying to ignore his German friend who’d snickered all through getting the cauldron of pale red liquid. “Potions class isn’t funny.”

“Ya, maybe,” Gilbert flashed him a grin and grabbed two glass rods – even though he was a great friend, he only managed to be a good Potions partner half the time. “But your red face is.”

“It’s not red,” Alfred pouted, though his ears was warm. “And it’s the love potion, after all. Everyone gets embarrassed over this stuff, so shut up.”

“Uh huh,” Gilbert replied in a sing song voice, not actually stirring clockwise like the textbook had instructed him, too busy with teasing.

With a sigh, Alfred elbowed him in his bony ribs. “Other way, man, other way. You’re lucky they lowered it to Exceeds Expectations this year.”

“Tch. They half assed the recipe because they don’t want us making it outside of class, anyway,” Gilbert hissed, but decided to roll up his sleeves and listen to Alfred. “Love potions are cute, that’s all – hey, stop looking around! You better not be looking at my _sister_ , Jones, or I’ll-”

“M’not at her, dude,” Alfred mumbled under his breath, tearing his eyes from Arthur’s serene form. Wisps of grey had already started to gently rise from his and Monika’s cauldrons, whilst his stayed stubbornly transparent. Pushing away the image of Arthur’s thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration, he continued to stir and sprinkle the pearl white dust outlined in step eight into the cauldron.

He managed to steal a glance at Gilbert, whose hands were shaking slightly as he added hastily crushed peppermint leaves until the mixture turned dark grey. Huh, maybe the guy wasn’t so confident with it as he’d made it out to be. Though, Alfred wanted to beat him at his own awesome game, so he kept his mouth shut and continued to let his cauldron simmer.

After awhile, the distinctive mother of pearl sheen appeared on the top of his cauldron, and the soft waft of smoke followed almost immediately after. Though it wasn’t the best brewed potion, as the spirals from the steam were slow and wobbly, the scent was already familiar to him.

Bludger leather...mint tea...Alfred couldn’t quite place the last one before he heard Gilbert sputter.

“What is it, man?” Alfred asked, before stopping – his friend’s face was salmon pink, even more pronounced on his pale skin, and he was leaning forward with wide open eyes. “Gil, what is it?”

“Can’t you smell it?”

“I know what I smell!” Alfred retorted, blushing even harder. “Le-”

“Those are the awesomest pancakes I’ve ever smelled,” Gilbert said, a slightly dreamy grin spreading on his face, giving the cauldron another vigorous stir. “And it has a bunch of maple syrup...then there’s this weird metally thing...”

 _Maple syrup? Pancakes...?_ For a moment, all thoughts of milk or mint tea jumped out of Alfred’s head and was replaced with a suspicion. Who matched that description best in Hogwarts? Alright, alright. Pancakes. Maple syrup. Someone that he knew ate that for breakfast every morn-

“What the _hell_ , man!” Alfred exclaimed loudly, the truth finally dawning on him, as well as attracting stares from around the classroom. “That’s my _brother_ you’re talking about! My brother’s off limits, you hear me, man? Off limits! You’ll corrupt him!”

“What the-” Gilbert spluttered, his face turning scarlet, much to the chuckles of the classroom around them. “No no, Al, listen man, you’ve got it all wrong! You can’t tell that sort of stuff from the potion!”

“Apologies, Beilschmidt,” the professor interjected dryly, “If you had read the blurb on _Amortentia_ in the textbook, it states clearly that it smells like what attracts you the most. Clearly, you’ve associated the scent of whatever is in there with someone.”

“And that _someone_ is my brother!” Alfred growled, stamping his foot childishly. He narrowed his eyes at his friend. “I _knew_ you were doing something evil when you kept on coming by us every morning at breakfast!”

“That's nothing to do with anything! You’re friends with the awesome me!”

“Gilbert...” Monika swore under her breath, trying her best to pretend _her_ brother didn’t exist. Going back to her cauldron, she simply noted down the pale yellow colour of the spiralling steam. The salty brine of the sea, mingling with wheat and paint, provided a...bizarre smell, to say the least, but relatively generic to the point where she felt safe noting it down on her parchment.

Arthur, on the other hand, knew all too well whom his potion reflected. From the golden brown colour of the steam, to the musky scent of his jacket, up to the hamburgers and sickly sweetness of the brown Muggle stuff called _soda_. How could he write down something that specific? At the very least, he could write down the colour of the spiral, but...

“Settle down and finish writing your notes, you two,” the professor grouched, waving Alfred and Gilbert back to their shared bench where they were currently flustered and grouchy. “I want a piece of parchment, front and back, on your _Amortentia_ brewing process today.”

“If you put one atom on Matt, I’ll hex you to oblivion,” Alfred was saying out of earshot, and Arthur thought back a chuckle. Quickly, he stirred the cauldron once more, noting down the mother of pearl sheen and the spiralling steam. He was still working out on how to fib about the smell before the professor came and lightly complimented them on their work.

“Thanks for not being distracted today,” Monika said quietly, her already deep voice going half an octave lower as soon as the professor left; “I’m sure that it must be a lot on you. I think.”

“You were there to support me,” Arthur replied, nodding once in small thanks, before gingerly looking at her cauldron. “Any clue in your cauldron?”

“I don’t think I can place it, no,” she said, frowning a little. “Perhaps if I can do more research before the next class? But yours...I wonder if it’s rude to talk about everyone else’s outcomes.”

“I believe you’re aware of whom,” Arthur mumbled, the tips of his ears bright red. “N-Not like I was thinking about _his_ outcome, we’re in class, after all. It would be inappropriate.”

“I didn’t say anything about his outcome,” Monika said, looking a little confused – _bollocks_ , Arthur thought to himself, _I didn’t mean to say it out loud!_ “But I’m relieved that we didn’t have to share them.”

* * *

Three work benches in front of them, Alfred and Gilbert had finally stopped their bickering and had resumed inspection of their potions, though not exactly in a speaking mood. After flicking through his copy of his textbook a little more, he managed to identify the scent as roses.

 _Crap,_ Alfred thought, his stomach sinking. Roses? The first two were complete giveaways, but he wasn’t remotely sure of what roses had to do with Arthur – or at least, he couldn’t remember. Was he thinking of someone else?

“...what’s wrong?” Gilbert muttered, glancing at him once. “Your face’s gone all pale.”

 _I’ve only had eyes for you ever since you distanced yourself,_ Alfred thought, cupping his mouth with his left hand. _Stuff hasn’t changed, or that’s what I thought...there’s gotta be something linking that to you, right? Right?_

_Maybe it has something to do with the notes I’ve been getting..._

“Nothing,” Alfred replied, suspiciously lacking his previous ire. “I just wrote something down wrong, you know. It’s fine.”

Gilbert stared at him for a moment, pale eyes not completely believing what his friend had said, but decided to not bother him. He’d been hearing a little from Francis and Monika that Alfred was going through a rough patch lately, and probably needed more support from his friends than usual. Even though he had gotten pissed off at his awesome self for _no_ reason at all, Gilbert decided to leave it for now.

Neither of them noticed Arthur’s anxious gaze watching Alfred’s apparent distress unfold, the scent of his jacket and roses weaving magic in the air.

* * *

Alfred had just placed his hastily written homework on the table and set out to leave before he felt a tap on his shoulder. Swivelling around and thoroughly ready to give a tongue lashing to Gilbert, his mouth stilled when he saw Arthur’s face.

“Alfred?” Arthur asked, and the two of them continued out into the hallway of Hogwarts, where night had already fallen. “Didn’t you say we had a practise session tonight?”

 _Oh crap, I forgot after everything in Potions,_ Alfred realised with an uncomfortable wiggle in his shoes. “I, uh...yeah. That’s right. Sorry, I just got a little side tracked with the whole evil brother stealer thing. I have my stuff on the pitch already, so what about your things?”

“Oh, I...I will confess, I got caught up in completing my work before the lesson last minute,” Arthur said sheepishly, obviously not wearing any sort of protective gear and lacking a broom. “Do you think there’s time to pop by my dorm before dinner? Or should we postpone it to another day?”

“Naw, no need to at all,” Alfred grinned, and Arthur couldn’t help but watch him adjust his bomber jacket that he wore underneath his robes. “It’s just a five minute walk from here, since you Slytherins love to have your dorms in such ratty, glum places.”

“You cheeky brat!” Arthur hissed, “Our dormitory is exceedingly atmospheric, you mean, thank you very much.”

“No, it’s dingy! With like all the dark lighting and stuff. Like ghosts and stuff. Whooooooo-”

“ _I’ll_ make you see ghosts, Jones,” Arthur huffed, though he noticed there was some hesitance in his usual teasing. Had something happened in the Potions class that ran deeper than his overprotectiveness of his brother?

Nevertheless, the two of them continued their regular bickering as soon as they reached the Slytherin dormitory.  
  
“I’ll just be a moment,” Arthur said quickly before he’d ducked into the common room, leaving Alfred outside to deal with a stern portrait, who gave him a glare and a huff of ‘typical Gryffindor’.

Unsurprisingly, the common room hadn’t changed much since Alfred was here last winter. Without Arthur, the place had lost an uncanny warmth and had reverted back to a cold and unremarkable place. Though it had seemed like it had been the case for many a haunt in Hogwarts, from the library where they used to study together from the leftmost seat in the stands where Arthur used to sit to cheer him on during games...

 _It’s just the stupid love potion messing with me,_ Alfred thought to himself, digging his hands in his pockets. _No, that’s just...ever since we came back from the summer, seeing him made me hopeful. But if he doesn’t want the relationship, I can’t do anything but love him from a distance._

_Though, I know how I feel, so I gotta find the person who’s writing notes to me..._

Feeling even worse than before, he shifted his weight from foot to food. It felt like forever before Arthur emerged, breathless and pink in the face, holding his Cleansweep and Alfred’s affections.

“I’m sorry for the wait,” Arthur said, “Shall we go now?”  
  
“Take the lead,” Alfred replied. With a hint of amusement, he noticed that even though the rest of Arthur’s protective equipment had strapped on correctly, it was still his knee guard that was hanging loosely, flapping up and down the back of his knee as he walked.

 _Please, keep your distance,_ Arthur thought to himself as he jammed his cold hands in his pockets, _that jacket will bring about the death of me._

Foolish Potions class. Now the one thing that occupied Arthur’s mind was all the times throughout fifth year that he had regularly worn the thing, whether it be trips to Hogsmeade or sitting in the same compartment in the Hogwarts express, fast asleep, or even when in fourth year where he’d singed his shirt in class and Alfred had handed him the jacket with a denial on his lips.

To his surprise though, Alfred was holding back a laugh as soon as the two of them arrived at the now lit Quidditch pitch. Before Arthur could sling back a defensive retort, though, Alfred tapped his shoulder and touched the soft back of his right knee.

“Oh...mucked up,” Arthur mumbled, “Wait, there’s no need-” But Alfred was faster than him this time, tightening and tugging even gentler than before. Not sure what to do with his hands, he awkwardly gripped the handle of his broom as Alfred stood up.

He was too close once again, and the scent of his jacket underneath his robes turned Arthur’s mind into a daze. Once more, like it hadn’t done for so long, his world narrowed to the boy in front of him: his blue eyes, slightly ajar lips, and golden brown hair matching the wretched steam...

 _He doesn’t see me that way, I ruined everything, even if we could sort out all the distance problems and the notes and everything, you wouldn’t want me back,_ Arthur desperately reasoned as neither of them made an effort to step away from one another. _I’ve believed that for so long, that I’m sure of it. Even if I’m honest with myself, I’ll never be lucky enough to be in love with you again._

“Arthur?” Alfred murmured, his tone achingly soft as he leaned closer, their noses so close that it sent Arthur’s heart a million miles an hour, filled with adoration and wanting and longing, traitorous longing. “Was that okay?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t go away so fast, okay?” Alfred said, a sheepish smile on his face. “We...we only have so much time together, you know.”

The painful reminder of their distance after graduation pained him. “We know that more than anyone,” Arthur replied, barely getting out the words before having to fight off a lump in his throat. “I...you understand, right? Why everything...”

“Yeah, I do. That’s why,” Alfred said, not missing a beat and gently holding Arthur in a hug, “That’s why we gotta spend as much time as we can together. Right?”  
  
He felt Arthur stiffen for a moment, and panicked for a heartbeat, thinking that he’d gone too far. Would he step away, pushing Alfred away forever, or would he yell at him, not wanting his companionship at all? Or even wanting to see his face-

“Yes, you’re right,” Arthur replied finally, and Alfred felt shy arms wrap around his waist, embracing him back – it sent a rush of warmth all around his body. “Alfred...I’m sorry. I wasn’t being honest with myself, and I wasn't being honest with you. Could you forgive me for all the hurt I’ve caused you?"

 _It’s gonna take some time, though..._ Alfred thought with a smile as he whispered his reply into Arthur’s soft hair – the scent of it was familiar, but he couldn’t think of anything other than the perfect weight in his arms.

_I think we’re gonna sort things out._

Even though they spent the next two hours before dinner playing Quidditch, the game ended up being the furthest thing from their minds, right up until they parted reluctantly to sit at separate seats in the Great Hall.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the hiatus, i kinda lost steam on this :( i'll keep on fighting to complete the fic, though!
> 
> just a heads up that mikakutensei and nyoengland are the same person (me lol), i initially was going to start writing again under the new pseuds, but i was away from AO3 for so long so i honestly didn't expect that i would be so attached to my old current username. 
> 
> that's it for admin stuff, i hope you enjoy the new chapter! thank you so much for sticking with match, and i hope you enjoy it. :)

“ _To the seeker in red,_

_I wish I could be honest with someone like you – someone that I’ve loved for so long, and so fiercely, that when we started speaking once more it felt as if I was living in a dream that only you could create._

_As a result, I feel as if I were honest, I would be terrified that the true intensity of my feelings towards you driving a rift between us. Simply put it, even after everything, I don’t think I can generate all the courage in the world to be completely honest with you yet._

_I’m sorry. I might give you some space after this note._

_Please, take care of yourself and your future first._

_\- Anonymous_.”

* * *

Monika watched Arthur’s tormented expression quietly before placing the note back in his hands.

“Arthur, may I ask,” she said, not unkindly, “Is this your way of speaking from now?”

“My apologies from taking the method from you, Monika.” he replied, nodding once.

“None needed,” she said, waving her large hand, sending a faint gust of wind through the Slytherin common room. “I would be more than willing to admit that I would be happy to do this for you and Alfred. Yet, I must too ask – have you had a conversation with him? Regarding his prospects in professional Quidditch.”

That made Arthur pause in his tracks. “We’ve spoken since the last Potions lesson, but I will confess that we haven’t discussed the part about his leaving early in sixth year.”

Monika rearranged herself on the plush velvet armchair. “Arthur, this may be important to you later if you, too, decide to somewhat pursue Quidditch this year and the next, but obviously getting an offer from the American national team to skip seventh year and go directly into training is a big deal.”

“I suppose I understand that, but...”

“Now I do see what you mean in the note, Arthur.” she said, tilting her head to gesture at it. “Even if you wish to be cautious with what you say and do, you cannot let it hinder your communications. At least, that is what I feel.”

He sighed, running a hand through his bird’s nest of hair. “You’re right. I’ll do my best.”

* * *

After that day in the Quidditch pitch, the two of them hadn’t had much time between lessons and their training. Thinking back to the words he and Monika had shared the other night; Arthur’s lips pressed themselves into a thin line. They’d just finished their training when he had asked to speak with him in private.

Sunset was falling across the Hogwarts campus, easily visible through the arches in the hallways, but even Alfred’s hair, clumsily obscured underneath his practise helmet, put the sun to shame.

All bravado from their productive training session flew from Arthur’s mind once he opened his mouth. “Though, Jones, I do have something to ask.”

 _He’s probably thinking about what Toris and I were talking about_ , Alfred thought to himself as they parted, keeping a short distance between them. It was true that it had happened almost a year ago, but something kept the painful memory of Arthur’s expression that day fresh in his mind.

It had been a year - a year of pining and confusion and angry hurt - and they still hadn’t matured enough to figure it out. At this moment it felt like he was able to get close to him once more, but...

“Take your time,” Alfred said quietly, peeking at him behind his glasses. He received a monotone nod in response, and could only see Arthur’s breath billow out in clouds.

 _Be honest with him,_ he thought. The autumn wind whistled in his ears, no comfort to him whatsoever.

“Jones – Alfred, am I...hindering your Quidditch progress in any way?” Arthur asked, biting on his dry lips. “I apologise that I didn’t think to ask you this before since Monika helped set up the lessons with you, but I remember Toris saying something about Gryffindor tryouts. You have those soon, and have to help with the Quidditch team before you graduate this, er, year, not to mention your work, so I wouldn’t want you to waste your time in aiding me.”

“A waste?” Alfred responded after a very long moment, his voice low and his teeth gritted. Arthur stiffened; was this a rare wave of anger washing over him? “Arthur...how could you think helping you and spending time with you would ever be a waste of my time?”

“After everything, I thought that might be a possibility! Not just Quidditch, but beyond us,” Arthur said. Alfred took a step forward unconsciously and he followed with a step backwards, still wary, still guarded around the only person he’d ever let his guard down with like this. “You...you _know_ why the way things are. Between us.”

“It’s never gonna be a possibility with me and you know that, Arthur!” Alfred exclaimed, his hands balling into tight fists at his sides, so tightly that he could see his knuckles turned white. “I _want_ to spend time with you. Really, really badly. So when Moni told me that you were looking for lessons I jumped at the chance even before she finished speaking, back then.”

Arthur heard the small noise of Alfred’s hand pressing into the back of the wall behind them, and nothing else in that moment. His face was too close again, and Arthur could see the moisture lining the corners of his eyes. They remained that way for a moment, brooms and Bludgers long forgotten, neither daring to disturb the aching silence between each other until Arthur spoke.

“Why do you want to spend time with...me? After everything that’s happened?” he said, looking down at the tiny space that separated their Quidditch boots. “I pushed you away and ruined everything, Alfred, and you shouldn’t forgive me.”

“You know,” Alfred murmured suddenly. Their eyes couldn’t help but meet, and then Arthur found he could no longer wrench his gaze from the other boy. “Arthur...I’ve never hidden it from myself, and I can’t hide it from anyone, especially you. You _know_ why.”

“...Don’t,” Arthur said, staring at his feet, his floor, his shin guards, _anything_ else – but Alfred couldn’t stop now, his heart skidding and going haywire with desperation. “Please, I...if you say it out loud, I-”

“I’m still in love with you.” Alfred breathed, his voice catching on the last syllable. “I always have. You don’t have to give me an answer, or feel the same ever, but I’m still in love with you. The love potion thing, the other day...I knew it.”

_If you say it out loud, then I’ll fall in love with you all over again._

“Mine smelled of everything that came with you,” Arthur replied, feeling his entire body tremble – not due to the cold, but to the very thing he was about to confess. “Alfred...after everything, I still feel the same, about you, about us.”

The way his face spread into the same irresistible smile that Arthur had loved for so long, even before he knew what the emotion was, made him melt. Before he even had time to react, Alfred had enveloped him in a hug.

“You’re being honest, right?” he mumbled into Arthur’s shoulder. He could feel the other person’s pounding heartbeat, skitterish and uneven, runaway just like his feelings. “You can be a bit of a grouchy old man sometimes, but you’re not gonna be that cruel to me.”

“Who are you calling a grouchy old man?” Arthur scoffed, but didn’t fight back his smile. Just like old times, they’d slipped into easy conversation once again. “Alfred F Jones...I’m being honest.”

“Then...why break my heart like that? I didn’t know that you...I thought you hated me, Arthur,” Alfred said, pulling back to look him in his eyes, a vulnerability in them that made him all the more guilty. “I thought that I did something wrong.”

“I...” _Be honest, even though it makes your teeth grit and your heart ache. It's no longer about you, it's about him._ Arthur took a deep breath before continuing to speak, pushing away the other’s pained expression. “Alfred, _I_ was wrong,” he said. “I was frightened about what would happen to our relationship after we graduated. So in a way, I lied to myself that breaking off our relationship would protect both of us from further heartbreak, but I realise now that I was the source of such misery.”

He saw Alfred’s mouth move to say something, but he couldn’t stop himself, not now. “I was reckless and foolish, and left you in the dark about something that would have been so easy to confess to had I been braver. That’s why I could not face you after the time in the owlery. H-How could I live with myself knowing that because of me, you could have put your future prospects at risk? I would _never_ tell you to stay just for my sake, but – mmph!”

Arthur felt his warm fingers on his cold chin, the soft, incessant press of his lips on his, then nothing more. He had barely allowed himself to think or look at him ever since the incident, so to be embraced by him again after so long...

He could only stand there, defenceless and absolutely besotted as Alfred’s arms pressed the two of them closer to the wall, hands on either side of Arthur’s shoulders, so tenderly that he thought his heart would burst whilst he reciprocated.

Breaking apart, stormy eyes met green. “Arthur Kirkland.”

“...Alfred Jones.”

Suddenly, he was pinching at Arthur’s pale cheeks, garnering a yelp of pain from the other boy. “Hey, Artie...that’s for making me worry like hell over the past few months! I thought you seriously hated me for the whole summer! Matt thought I was gonna die!”

“Watch your strength, you dolt...” he hissed, yet his expression softened. He was calling him by his old nickname again. “Alfred, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’d ever be able to hate you. I know I cannot begin to make up for the pain I've caused you these few months, but-”

“That being said, Artie...” Alfred murmured, resting his forehead against his, “Thank you for being honest with me. I know it’s not easy for either of us.” His thumb reached out, pausing for a moment in mid air before wiping at the corner of his eye, brushing off a tear he didn’t even know he was holding back.

Arthur exhaled, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Focusing on the dog tags that hung loosely off of Alfred’s neck, he spoke. “Don’t I know it. Remember that time you pranked me in second year and it was plainly obvious it was you, but it took me threatening to bring you to the Shrieking Shack to tell the truth?”

“Artie! Okay, man, that wasn’t the point, we were bitter rivals back then. Not revealing that woulda been unheroic!”

“...”

“ _That_ being said, again,” Alfred pouted, tilting his fingers so Arthur was facing him once more, albeit with a blush on his face. “I understand why. Long distance isn’t easy, and there’s so much in our futures that we don’t know yet. But I hope we can get through it together."

“I-I’d want that, too,” Arthur said, after a brief pause. Slowly, his hand reached out for Alfred’s before hesitantly placing his fingertips on his. The Gryffindor captain paused, looking at their tentative contact, before removing his leather glove and enveloping Arthur’s bony hand with his own, holding it up to his lips. “...I want to be with you, Alfred Jones.”

“Let’s stick together, again,” Alfred replied, kissing his fingertips with uncharacteristic tenderness, like they were butterfly wings fluttering against his skin. “I wanna give this another go. And I’m gonna do my best to be as honest with you as I can. So, uh...can I get another kiss? Please? Come on, it’s been so long...”

 _You’re too easy to predict, idiot,_ Arthur thought with a fond smile.

For a moment, he was tempted to just throw his arms around his neck with reckless abandon like he used to, as if they were foolish fifth years all over again. Yet so much had changed between them, so much so he moved forward to embrace him like he was a statue, perfect and unyielding and untouchable, something Arthur could never possibly dream of being allowed to love once more.

But, as Alfred impatiently wound both his gloved and ungloved hand around Arthur’s robes and pulled him close once more, he realised that the Gryffindor captain was none of those things – just his Alfred F Jones.

Standing there, clad in their Quidditch robes and with the sunset falling all around them, Arthur allowed himself to be happy with him again.

Even if it was just for another moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's not Thursday but I hope everyone doesn't mind ^^;;
> 
> i hope you enjoy this chapter :) please let me know what you think, I'd dearly love to hear your thoughts <3

“ _To the seeker in red,_

_I saw you skip down the hallway this morning going to breakfast. I wonder if I could make you that happy all the time one day?_

_You deserve that little, Alfred. If you asked me, you deserve the world, yet you know better to do that, since you know how I feel about you._

_The radiance coming from you was enough to warm me from head to toe, and I want you to know that you do that for not just me, but everyone around you. For that reason alone, you deserve to be happy every single moment of every single day._

_\- Anonymous._ ”

* * *

Matthew was not happy.

Alfred could tell his older twin was disgruntled by the uncharacteristic crease inbetween his eyebrows and his hair being wavier than usual, meaning that he’d washed his hair yesterday and hadn’t dried it properly. It took him a moment to come off the high of last night to realise that Gilbert was not hovering around them like he usually did, which put him in an even better mood. 

“Morning, Mattie,” Alfred sang, happily taking his seat next to his brother. “How are you?”

“Why isn’t Gilbert come to say hello us this morning? He’s oddly late,” Matthew grumbled, folding his arms. “Did you say something to him?”

Shit. The potions class flooded back into his mind, and his hand paused. “Uhh...no, bro. I didn’t.”

“Your little cowlick thing bobs when you lie,” his brother countered sharply, flicking his fingers against Alfred’s temple, eliciting a yelp. “Are you two arguing about Quidditch again? You know, we were having such good discussions about Care for Magical Creatures, and you drive out every friend I try to make, like Carlos, and I’m not going to stand for it! I – oh, there he is. Never mind.”

Before Alfred could protest, Matthew swung one leg over the bench and went to the entrance of the Great Hall, breaking into a light jog. Squinting behind his glasses, he could barely make out the albino’s very red cheeks. Damn it all! He was really after his brother! As the hero, he’d need to do something about it!

Swinging his legs over and almost knocking over the bench, he strode purposefully over to where they were standing until he saw Arthur’s blond hair follow behind with his housemates. Like he was blown off course by a strong gust of wind, his feet abruptly changed direction until he was standing in front of him. “Artie! G-Good morning!”

“Ah, Jones, good morning,” Arthur replied, sounding a little confused at the bright red splotches on his cheeks for a moment before his face flushed as well. “...Alfred.”

“I missed you a lot!” he cried, throwing his arms around Arthur’s slender neck and pulling him into a hug. By now, the other students that were filing into the Great Hall for breakfast had noticed, and the whispers started.

“They’re dating again? I thought they broke up during the summer...aw. No, I’m not disappointed, you weirdo.”

“Huh, who would have guessed they talked it out? They don’t talk.”

“I really thought something happened over last year?”

“What does he see in that Kirkland, anyway?”

Alfred could feel Arthur’s breath hitch, panic starting to set in, taking in what everyone was saying. Being a hero, of course, he gently steered Arthur away to where he had been sitting, determined to make sure he wasn’t hurt. 

“Do you wanna sit with me today? Like we used to?”

Arthur looked backwards to Francis and Monika, the people he’d came in with. Francis, being Francis, merely winked suggestively, whereas Monika gave a small thumbs up. “I suppose I’ll allow it, for once.” 

Fighting back a smile at Arthur’s indulgent expression, Alfred was about to skip back to his chair and drag him along when Arthur tapped his shoulder. “Before you rush off, idiot, you might want to-”

“I really like you, Matthew,” To Alfred’s dismay, Gilbert was holding out a small jar of maple syrup to his surprised brother. “Really really. So! Could you please...um...go out with me? Please please, awesome please? It would be really awesome, I promise you!” 

“Gilbert?” Matthew sounded completely off guard; didn’t he get love notes or something like he did too? Well if he did, Alfred would have to snap his friend’s broomstick into seventy parts, but that wasn’t the point. “What’s this about? I thought you were busy, so you didn’t greet us during breakfast-”

“I-I was late because I was asking for help on how to say this,” Gilbert stammered, gesturing weakly with his shoulders to Antonio and Francis, hovering behind him, beaming like an angel (Antonio) and grinning like a devil (Francis). “You know, we’ve been close friends for awhile, so why not take it a step further? Ah, no...that’s not what I meant to say at all.”

“Let’s find our seats, then,” Arthur said tactfully, dragging the seething Alfred away who missed his brother’s reaction.

* * *

“Love is truly brewing at Hogwarts again,” Lukas commented during the last meeting of the Reunite Arthur and Alfred Club, in the staircase next to the owlery. “Suffice to say, I think we have been successful.”

Kiku and Francis exchanged a glance, tempted to mention Matthias Densen, but neither of them moved. “They are together again, no?”

“That seems to be the case for now,” he replied, over the sounds of cages unlocking and owls hooting – making for decent camouflage. “Yet I cannot help but feel as if not everything is resolved.” 

“Alfred has not asked about the identity of the note sender, but I have been speaking to Arthur and he says he is still giving them to him anonymously,” Monika said. “Perhaps there is that still as well.”

“He would not brush them away that simply, I do not think,” Kiku agreed. “But it may not be appropriate to help them with that, as it may give away our original plan. Arthur only knows about Monika’s assistance, still, yes?”

“Yes. So what should we do now?”

“There’s not much to do, I think, at least for now,” Francis said, stretching out his arms in a triumphant pose. “Bon!”

“There is the matter of him leaving after this year for his work in America.”

Francis quickly pulled down his arms and glared half heartedly at Monika. “Monika, I’m not a miracle worker! That sort of thing isn’t for us to figure out, it’s for Alfred and Arthur to. You make it sound as if you have your plan after Hogwarts already figured out.”

She frowned, adjusting her robes. “Actually, Bonnefoy, I do. First, it’ll be-”

“Oh, stop there, stop there, please,” he wailed, clutching at his shirt melodramatically. “You’re going to make my stomach curdle with fright. I don’t know.”

Nonplussed, Monika frowned disapprovingly, but was either too kind or too proper to tease him. 

“The point still stands, though. All those in favour of disbanding the club?” Lukas said, and four pairs of hands rose in unison. 

“Right, well. The next thing to do is to get him.”

* * *

Wisely, Toris waited until his friend had finished an afternoon of Quidditch training to approach him again.

“Alfred? A word, if that’s okay,” he asked politely, waiting for the Gryffindor team in the shallow parts of the stand where he could be seen.

“Yeah, of course – good work today, guys,” Alfred said, waving to his housemates before greeting him. “What’s up?”

Compared to the at times gloomy person he’d been over the summer, he seemed to have recovered almost completely to his old self. “You look as if you’re on cloud nine, Alfred,” he said with a small smile. “Word’s gotten around about breakfast already. Congratulations.”

“Huh? About the...o-oh, yeah, that,” he mumbled, suddenly changing from the brash Quidditch captain to an embarrassed boy. “Heh, thanks, Toris. It’s...yeah. Thanks.”

Not sure how to carry the conversation forward, he tried anyway. “Have you heard back from the American team? I haven’t received a letter back from them yet, but I suppose it’s different for prospective players.”

“I...no, I have, it’s just,” Alfred said quickly. Too quickly. For obvious reasons, the boy who’d wanted to go to America to pursue his professional dreams had been stopped dead in his tracks, but to the extent of not wanting them at all?

What he said next sent a cold shock through his friend’s spine. “I’m not sure about taking them up on that internship now. At least, I don’t wanna leave so soon in a few months.”

“What?” Toris sputtered, grip loosening on his book bag in surprise. “You don’t want to...go? To your dream post? To your dream team?”

“No! No, it’s not that, it’s just that...” Alfred gestured awkwardly with the hand that wasn’t gripping his broom, until it finally dawned on him at the same time he said it out loud. “Arthur.”

“I just can’t go so soon knowing that things are...” He paused once more, looking around to make sure that they were alone before he dropped his voice. “Toris, I think...I think I love him. Really, really.”

“I understand,” he said, even though he really didn’t. “But is he worth dropping everything you’ve worked for all these years? I don’t think Arthur is the sort of fellow that would be okay with you dropping all your ambitions for his sake.”

“It’s the long distance that scares us, so if I just find a job playing for a team here, then maybe things would work out.” Toris, had he not known Alfred since second year, might just have been able to swallow that terribly convenient solution, not to mention it didn’t sound as if he were really paying attention to what he was saying. “Maybe.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Alfred, you’ve just received an offer of internship from one of the most up and coming Quidditch teams, and I don’t think it’ll take someone that knows the game as well as we do to see how precious that opportunity is.”

“But Arthur is precious to me as well,” he protested; yet Toris could see some of his determination waver. “I can’t...it took so long for the both of us to understand where we were coming from, but-”

“I understand you love him very much, and I’m sure he does as well,” Toris said, “But we’re young. What if it doesn’t work out? You’d have thrown away such a rare opportunity for nothing. Alfred, I know you don’t want to hear that,” he said, softening his tone once he saw Alfred’s face contort in pain. “But there’s always a chance. If the two of you were so conflicted over the simple possibility, the relationship could be more fragile than you’d want it to be.”

There was an awkward silence before Toris realised he’d spoke out of turn. “I’m sorry, I realise it’s not my place-”

“No, you’re right, Toris, it’s just...I was so blinded by my own happiness that I didn’t wanna think about what came next,” Alfred murmured, taking off and cleaning the frames of his glasses, which had fogged up in the cold. He daren’t look at his friend’s face. “I...”

“I’m not saying you should make anything in terms of a decision, Alfred,” he said quickly. “It’s just that you should speak to Arthur about it before you turn anything down.”  
“Yeah, I should,” Alfred muttered, barely audible underneath the scarf which he’d buried his chin in. Oh, no, Toris thought to himself, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything else. He understood that they were in love, yes, but to the point of giving up such a good offer based on the fact that he and Arthur was together again wasn’t something he just could completely agree with. “Thanks, Toris.”

Though... “Alfred, wait,” he blurted before he could stop himself. “Alfred, listen. I’m, uh. Don’t forget, I’m your friend, first and foremost, and I’ll stand by whatever decision you make. You don’t have to choose between Quidditch and your personal life; they can work in tandem with each other. You did help to train Arthur in Quidditch earlier this year, right? Even though he’s in another house?”

“Yeah, but inter house competitions aren’t the same as our futures, I guess.”

“S-Something like that,” Toris admitted – if this was a way Alfred could understand, he’d take it any day over explanations about textbooks like they used to do all the time over their shared lessons in fourth year. “Anyway. This is something the two of you have to sort out. Don’t reject them so soon.”

With a nod, the two friends left the pitch, Alfred to the Slytherin common room and Toris to his – until, he saw a small shadow of an owl flit over him. Maybe it was a longing for his own letter, or something else, that caused him to divert to the owlery, trying weakly to keep pace with it.

Staggering into the area after a long and terribly boring run, he came face to face with four very familiar students, including an Arthur Kirkland.

* * *

“...So that’s how it is, I see,” Toris mumbled, even though he really didn’t see and really wanted to see if it had indeed been his owl returning. “Well, I’m sorry to hear about it, Arthur. But have the two of you spoken?”

“Not yet, I’m just...afraid, so to speak,” came the reply. They hadn’t been close by any means, but it was surprising to him that the other boy seemed to almost curl on himself, compared to the gossip that had floated around the castle since the morning. “It would be cruel to deprive him of such an opportunity.”

“That may be true, but he might not feel the same way,” Toris said, before he could stop himself. “For all purposes, he may be willing to throw it away for your sake.”

At Arthur’s stricken expression, Francis spoke. “You must really be speaking to him soon, Kirkland.”

“I already, er-”

“Arthur, there is no need to rush, but I agree with Francis and think it is important.” Lukas simply nodded along with Kiku, but his expression was troubled. This conversation, Toris guessed, should have happened much sooner.

“I don’t...want to ruin what little happiness I have given him already,” Arthur sighed, after a long pause between the six of them, sniffling once before composing himself. “How can I tell him that what little we now have is still ridden with uncertainty? I can’t do that.”

“Neither can we,” Monika said, her tone flat. “Arthur, if you need some moral support, we can be there for you. Remember the advice with the notes?”

“We are your friends, after all,” Kiku chipped in tactfully with Ravenclaw charm once he saw Arthur nod despondently. “Even if you have to have the conversation with him yourself, we can still offer support.”

Francis couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, I can bring out a cheer squad, if you’d like,” he said smoothly, waving his hand as if Antonio and Gilbert could Apparate behind him in that instance. 

“Shut your trap, you blasted frog, you-” 

“Your sniffling was cute, but that reaction is not, cher! Lukas, restrain your housemate, would you? NO, not my nose!”

Forgetting about the manager position and Alfred's woes for awhile, Toris cracked his first smile of the evening.

* * *

In one of the last practise sessions before Quidditch tryouts, Arthur needed to concentrate more than ever, but the conversation between his friends and Toris couldn't help but allow every sentence to echo through his head.

_Remember the advice with the notes?_

_For all purposes, he may be willing to throw it away for your sake._

_Even if you wish to be cautious with what you say and do, you cannot let it hinder your communications._

The note in his pocket felt a hundred times more heavier than the Bludger he was carrying as he approached Alfred after the session, cheeks pink with embarrassment and cold at the same time, only something that Alfred himself could do.

Would it stay that way?

"Alfred, my darling," Arthur blurted before he could stop himself, "Could I have a moment?"

"Hm? Yeah, anything for you, Artie," Alfred replied, though he could instantly sense that something was wrong. Had he started to get second thoughts? "I gotta say, I need to ask you about something. You doing okay with the Quidditch tryouts?"

"About those notes you received," he started haltingly, winding his fingers around his slender wrists and twisting them, barely being able to hear what he was saying, "I...I have to tell you something about them." That, by far, was the easiest topic he could cover when faced with his softened expression. 

"Wait, how did you know-"

" _I_...wrote those notes." he said quickly, shutting his eyes. Alfred's expression wasn't something that he could watch without losing his composure. The note in his pocket weighed even heavier than it had, which he didn't feel possible without the use of a spell. Echoes of people going up to their dormitories, as well as Alfred's harsh breathing, seared his senses, leaving him with a numbness that pushed him forward to confess what felt like the impossible. "I helped a friend write them, but then we talked about it and she agreed that I was thinking about you in that way when I wrote them and I...never mind. Just - please...take this.”

_I can't do it. I can't do it I can't do it I can't do it. Forgive me, please, if I cannot bring myself to rip away from you only when we've just come back together._

Before Alfred had enough time to react, Arthur dug into his pocket for a crumpled note and placed it in his hand, sans leather gloves. “We must speak later, but...I want you to think about it. What happens if you do decide to leave early before seventh year. Just for a few days, as I'm worried about you, Alfred. Please, let us speak after the Quidditch tryouts. I can't have all the work you put me through be wasted. E-Even though you might leave for sixth year, your duties as a Quidditch captain are paramount. ”

"Artie-" he looked as if he wanted to say something, and Arthur forced his boots to plant themselves on the floor. "...no, you're right. We should wait to talk. We'll talk, right?"

"I'm sorry," Arthur whispered hoarsely. Scarcely daring to breathe, he lifted himself on his tiptoes, left a small kiss on his cheek, then seized his broom once more. "But yes, I promise we'll speak. I made a promise to talk out our problems, it's just that I won't bother you until after the tryouts on Tuesday."

Letting the wood dig into his bare palms as if it could begin to inflict the punishments he deserved, he started to trudge away, thinking about leaving Alfred with his note and his affections, with all the poison that came with it once more. 

A hand reached out and gently grasped his forearm. "Artie, wait."

Trying to ignore the thumping in his heart, he exhaled once. "Alfred, what - !"

“Artie, please,” Alfred murmured into the cold skin of his neck, all warmth. His lips clumsily moved over his vertebrae, unknowingly teaching him affection in places that he didn’t even know could accept it. “Please, don’t run from me. You know you'd never be a bother to me. Just use your words – that’s the way we best communicate, right?”

Gingerly pressing their lips together, Arthur wanted to scream, to cry, to tell him that it was hopeless that Alfred would even give up something like an internship at a prestigious Quidditch team just for someone like _him_ , but it all faded in the endless wall of his affection. The broom clattered onto the pitch as Arthur's trembling fingers segued themselves against his sweater, holding his warmth for what felt like a moment before they broke apart, foreheads resting on each other's. 

He’d ruined their relationship before, in the same place, in the same way – running from what he’d been so reluctant to admit. Instinctively, his flight response kicked in, calling him to flee from someone who he loved so desperately, so much that it scared him. Alfred F Jones, someone he’d learned to hate before learning to love, someone who he would do almost anything for.

Including, as Arthur realised with a jolt, throwing away his pride.

Swallowing once, he didn’t push away the arms encircling him. “Alfred...I love you.”

Shutting his eyes, he soldiered on, breath billowing in the higher atmosphere of the Quidditch pitch. “I love you, Alfred. And I wouldn’t know myself if I stopped loving you, or found it impossible to because of the distance. Forcing myself to push you away this summer was...lonely doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

“I don’t care if it feels as if I’ll lose everything,” he whispered, the soft flap of wings and Alfred’s breathing barely audible past the lump in his throat.

“Applying for a position in the Ministry, staying here after graduation...leaving during sixth year with you. Even now, we only have a few months together...what I wouldn’t give to fix my mistakes. I feel as if I’d miss you so much I’d forget how to breathe. I’d even...just to stay with you for another moment, I’d...I'd...”The hot tears sliding down his face seemed to stifle him completely, and he stood there, humiliation and mortification strangling him, not knowing what to do next. He’d poured his heart out, but after everything, would Alfred even accept his words?

Barely a moment passed before Alfred moved in front of him. Desperately, Arthur searched for mockery, contempt, the same expressions that had haunted him in his nightmares, but saw instead the same vulnerabilities.

“Artie, come here,” he said gently, and then enveloped him into a hug. The slight height difference sent his red face burrowing into Alfred, where he allowed himself to cry in earnest, a harsh sound that sent the few owls overhead into a frenzy. “Artie...it’s okay. You don’t have to hold back for me.”

The same words that had flowed so incessantly from his brain seemed to completely stop at his most vulnerable. He waited for more words, more reassurances that he’d never wanted to hear, that their relationship wouldn’t survive the distance and that it was the right thing to move on.

Yet there was nothing but the steady rhythm of Alfred’s calloused hand patting his head and his arm melding their bodies together, murmuring unintelligible things as Arthur allowed himself to _finally_ purge all the frustration and uncertainty he’d been feeling for months on end – not just about Alfred, but about their future after Hogwarts.

After a pause that lasted either a minute or an hour, Arthur withdrew himself form him, taking a deep breath. “I apologise, that was...I did not know what came over me.”

He was about to speak again when he noticed Alfred was rubbing his eyes – had he been crying as well? “Alfred? Are you all right?”

“No, yeah, I just,” he sniffed, stupid smile still radiant over his teary eyes. “It’s just that I'm...really happy. That you told me this, so I knew that it wasn't just me that felt this way."

Moving forward, he clasped Arthur's hands in his own. "You're right, there's not much time before Quidditch tryouts - but there's still time for the two of us. I'll... _we'll_ figure something out. Together. After all, it's the hero's job to create a happy ending, right?"

"Y-You and your heroes, you absolute dolt," he sniffed, blinking away all the burdens he'd been carrying all this time, reduced to relief. "...I suppose."

"Aargh, I'm really bad with heavy things, come here! You deserve a lotta hugs for being honest for once."

"Don't tell me otherwise - oi! Honest for once? What do you mean? D-Don't hug me like that, idiot, others will see-"

"But that's my privilege as a boyfriend! Mwah, mwah, mwah!"

"A-Ah, Alfred, you idiot!! Get off!!" 

_But Artie, you're not really trying to push me away anymore...isn't that right? With a face like that, you're too dangerous. I might just end up falling in love more than I already have._


End file.
